Kiss Me by Moonlight
by XxCaraDxX
Summary: Vampires. Werewolves. Hybrids. Love. Heartache. Kisses. Dances. Soul-mates. Friendship. Family. Bonfires. Cliff-divers. Wish-makers. Imprints. Legends. Destinies. Moonlight. Promises. Vows. Forever and Always. A story of love's young dream.
1. Smiles of Sunshine

**Chapter I:**** Smiles of Sunshine**

"_A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you." _

―Elbert Hubbar

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Set when Renesmee is physically around thirteen.

_The hunt had begun._

Morning dew hit the lowland trees, glistening from the mist that was starting to hang over the woodland. But the sun was still bright in its setting. It cast an orange glow that illuminated the light, but darkened the shade.

The perfect time for stalking prey.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

_ Silence._

His footsteps glided over the leaves that should have crinkled, but his step was so light that he didn't make a sound.

His golden eyes darted left and right, calculating each step before taking it. As the darkness that had settled in began to rise and vanish, his honeyed hair blew in the gentle morning breeze. The locks, the stunning figure, the eyes that drew people in without a second glance: a predator of unparalleled power. So angelic and deceptively innocent; yet his every molecule was a means of capturing the attention of those who would inevitably fall victim to his beauty.

_He enticed prey._

_ And he meant to._

His ear picked up the almost imperceptible sound of movement to the east and with gentle steps he moved forward, a smile forming on his lips. There was a quiet rustle of an animal grazing and he became alive with the thrill of the hunt. And he was off in the sound's direction, skittering around trees and over fallen trunks, his mouth watering to the scent that was growing stronger with every step—

But then a twig snapped behind him and his daughter fell into the clearing. Straight onto her hands and knees with a bang and a groan. The sound and smell of prey disappeared instantly.

Edward sighed and darted to the fallen Renesmee. "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

Nessie scowled at the scrapes on her palms. "Only my pride," she muttered.

Edward took her hands and frowned at them. "You've got to be more careful, darling."

"I was only trying to keep up with you."

Guilt crept up his spine and into his veins. He was trying to encourage her with his speed, not force her to struggle to keep up. "I'm sorry, Nessie; I should have waited for you."

"No. I know I have to learn. It's just . . . hard." Renesmee's vampire instincts had grown very shallow since she was young; her human side was far more prevalent. Running, hunting, preying, all the things that came so natural to him were such a struggle for her.

So much of her was human and wasn't compatible in the vampire world. But she was trapped in it. And tried so hard to belong.

He kissed both of her palms softly. "Better?"

She smiled. "A little."

Edward stood up and bent down slightly so she could climb on his back. "Come on, that's enough for today. Let's get home. We can try again tomorrow." Renesmee complied quickly and wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked back in the direction of their house, slowly, leisurely.

_What am I doing wrong_? she thought to him. She knew she was doing _a lot_ of it wrong. What she really needed to know was how she could improve.

"Well," Edward said. "For starters, you need to be _really_ quiet. No louder than the wind."

Renesmee made a frustrated noise and rested her head on his shoulder. _That's easy for you. You're always quiet. I'm . . . loud_.

Edward laughed and gave her arm a squeeze. "You'll get it eventually. And in the mean time, your grandma Esme delights in cooking for you."

Renesmee smiled but didn't reply. It bothered her sometimes that she couldn't keep up with the rest of her family, that she wasn't like them, that she was just so different, so out of place. So lost.

"You're not _lost_, Nessie, and you're not out of place. You're just special."

_Special_. That had worked when she was a baby. When _special_ was a good thing. But she didn't want to be special anymore. She just wanted to be like everyone else.

Edward let out a gust of air that wasn't so much a sigh as it was the strange cry-thing her vampire family did when they were upset. He stopped and put her on the ground so he could turn and look his daughter in the eye. He bent to her height and placed a hand on either of her cheeks.

"Renesmee, my darling, you're like us in every way that matters." He tilted her chin until she was forced to look at him. His golden gaze bore into hers. "You're just like us, Nessie—but you're better. You don't have to hunt and kill if you don't want to. You're _good_."

Good. That was the word now. Instead of special. _Good_.

He sighed in earnest now, and bowed his head. He had no idea how to comfort her. So he just turned around and she jumped again onto his back. She relaxed into his shoulders once more. _I love you, Daddy_.

"I love you, too, Nessie."

* * *

><p>Renesmee smelled breakfast in the air as she and her father approached the big house. She was hungry, not overly so, seeing as she had just finished an elk.<p>

The moment she stepped through the front door, she was swept into a hug so tight her chest deflated like a popped balloon. "Good morning, sunshine," Emmett crooned. "Nice to see you up and about and _out of bed_!" It didn't matter that Nessie had been up for the past two hours to hunt with Edward, the fact that she had to sleep at all was enough for her Uncle Emmett. "And how are we this fine, fine day?"

Renesmee rolled her big brown eyes over his shoulder before he put her down. It was customary, there was no avoiding it. He did this every morning. So she told him she was good, and when he asked if she'd slept well, she told him that, yes, she'd slept remarkably.

She left him to make for the kitchen, where the rest of her family had gathered, but he followed her, making constant quips about the nonsense and weakness of _sleeping_.

Emmett muttered something about _bed's having much better uses_, but her father coughed so violently at the same moment that she couldn't really make it out.

Grandma Esme caught her eye from from the stove and gestured towards the kitchen table, which was overflowing with a banquet of breakfast. Jacob was sitting there already, a plate of food stacked high in front of him. He smiled brilliantly at her.

"Thanks, Grandma," Renesmee said, and then to the room in general: "Morning."

"Good morning, Renesmee, honey," her mother said and pulled her into a hug much tighter yet far softer than Emmett's. When Bella drew back, she studied her for a moment as though she was searching for cracks or scratches or damages. And Nessie knew her father had told. He had been quick. They were barely back five minutes.

He looked guiltily at her and she flicked her gaze away, embarrassed at the hunting and the falling and the conversation that had followed.

"Are you—?" Bella then asked, but Renesmee cut her off with an "I'm fine, Mom" before she could start an inquisition.

Bella could obviously sense this, and left her alone. Renesmee had a vague recollection of once being told that her mother had been prone to such things as falling over and embarrassment, so Nessie supposed she understood.

The rest of her family greeted her then: Aunt Rosalie hugged her and kissed her and told her she looked beautiful. Aunt Alice complained of Renesmee's clothes and how she hadn't worn what had been left out for, but seemed to let it slide for now. Uncle Jasper rolled his eyes at his wife. He raised his hand in silent greeting and Nessie beamed at him.

She took the seat between Jasper and Jacob, two of her favourite people in the world, and grabbed a slice of toast.

It was strange, how well Renesmee and Jasper got on. But they did, for as long as she could remember, and she never questioned it.

She jumped suddenly when her chair wobbled. Jacob had kicked it.

Her head shot up and she glared at him. "What's wrong with you?" she implored.

"Uh," – he gestured around widely – "Have you forgotten someone?"

"Oh, yeah," Renesmee said, and turned purposely to her father. "Where's Grandpa?" Though she had her back to him, she could _feel_ Jacob frowning in irritation.

Edward smiled at her. He liked watching her annoy Jacob. "At the hospital," he told her. Grandpa Carlisle worked at some hospital in Seattle, having left his job in Forks some years ago when it became apparent he wasn't aging.

_ Thump_. Jacob kicked her chair again.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "_What_, Jacob?" She tried to sound angry, but it mostly came out amused.

"Good morning, Nessie." He raised his eyebrows, like he was waiting for something vitally important. She wanted to both groan in exasperation and smile in happiness all at the same time. Emotions with Jacob were getting to be so _confusing_ all of a sudden.

Nessie looked back to Jacob and made the words sound like they required the most obscene amount of effort: "Good morning, Jake."

He smiled like sunshine. "I thought you'd forgotten about me for a moment."

Renesmee was trying to think of something witty to reply with when Rosalie scoffed. "Like we could _forget_. If the smell wasn't enough, you never shut up."

Nessie rolled her eyes and ate some breakfast while they exchanged customary Blonde/Dog jokes.

She was starting to get full when Emmett asked suddenly: "So how was hunting?" He was always so overly excited. Especially about things that involved violence. "How many? Were they big? They put up a fight?"

Renesmee didn't want to talk about the disaster that had be hunting this morning, and she rather wished the ground would swallow her whole when Jacob stopped eating so he could pay attention. It was quite a big deal when Jacob stopped eating to do anything.

"I – um –" Her family knew she wasn't the best hunter, after all she was only part vampire, but she hated to admit it. Besides, for a while it seemed like she'd been getting better.

"Fantastic," her dad said for her. "Excellent. She had a whole elk." He didn't mention that _he_ had actually done the catching. Or that she fell and scared away all the other animals in a two mile radius. And he was so _convincing_. She was glad to have him on her side.

Edward winked at her.

Renesmee finished all she could eat and pushed her plate to Jacob, like always. He smiled his best Jacoby smile and ate gladly. She spent the rest of the evening trying with every ounce of her restraint to not think about that smile.

* * *

><p>At ten o'clock that night, Renesmee sat in her room, reading her much tattered copy of <em>Pride and Prejudice<em>. She didn't care what her mother said: this book far surpassed _Wuthering Heights_. It was about friendship and sistership and falling in love with someone despite your best intentions and against your mother's wishes, falling in love with someone who loved you against reason and without obligation. Who simply loved you because they couldn't help do anything but.

She sighed aloud when Mr Darcy confessed his love to Elizabeth Bennett. This book always made her so emotional. She was tearing up. _"You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you."_ And she understood completely. Or, at least, she thought she did. She knew what it was like to love someone so much she never wanted to be parted from them. But to have them so out of reach, and also know you would never, _ever_ have them.

She envied Lizzie there: she got her Darcy in the end. Nessie would never get hers.

Renesmee almost jumped out of her skin when there was a knock on the window behind her. Jacob was pulling open the pane and climbing in. She relaxed a little at the sight of him, but was far too preoccupied with thoughts of Mr Darcys and true loves and happily ever afters tonight.

He nudged her to make room for him so he could lie down on the bed and she suddenly was very aware of her pyjamas. He relaxed and folded his hands behind his head. He did this every night—well, every night he wasn't working—and had done it for as long as she could remember.

Her parents _must_ know. How could they not? They can hear her breathing from the other room, let alone the noise of a full grown werewolf climbing in her window. But they never said anything to her about it, not a word. They were still at the big house, so she knew he'd turn up eventually. He always came when she was by herself.

She was closing the book to set it on her dresser when Jacob suddenly placed his finger beneath her chin.

"Nessie – Nessie, are you _crying_?" He looked so concerned.

Oh, _God_.

She quickly wiped the stray tears away with her sleeve and tried to laugh. "No, I'm fine." She pulled her face away and Jacob sat up immediately.

"What's wrong? Are you okay—"

"No, there's nothing wrong with me. I was just – reading this book, and—"

Jacob's face perked up at once. He grinned a bit. "You were crying over a _book_?" The word _book_ sounded like a profanity.

Renesmee shoved his shoulder. "Shut up. It's a classic."

"Some heroic war tragedy where everyone dies?" He reached over her towards the dresser.

"What? No –" She snagged the book first and held it away from him at body's length. "People don't have to _die_ for it to be sad."

"As long as it's not some _chick-flick_." _Chick-flick_ – another bad word. His eyes were trained on the cover. "Just show it to me."

"No," Renesmee said. "And it's not _some chick-flick_." He was trying to stretch around her. She put one hand to his chest and held the book in her other hand as far away as her thirteen year old body could reach.

"Just show me."

"No."

Jacob seemed to appraise her for a minute, his gaze darting from her face to her hand. Fast as lightning, he leaned around her body and she squealed. "No – Jake –" She held the book farther away, but his arms were just so much longer.

"Just – let me – see." He grabbed it and rolled backwards and off the bed.

Renesmee borrowed her head in her pillows and groaned. "God, Jacob Black, you are so _annoying_."

He hooted in victory. When she peeked out, he was staring at her incredulously.

"_Pride and Prejudice_?"

"_What_?" She sat up and went to her dresser, content to ignore him as much as possible until he just went home. "There's nothing wrong with that book."

He must have picked up on her mood because he eased up a bit. "I know, I just don't see what's sad in this."

She peered at him over her shoulder. "You've read it?"

"No, but I've sisters. I picked up the gist."

Renesmee made an irritated sound. She walked over to him, snagged the book back, and returned it to its rightful spot on her bookshelf. "Well then you wouldn't understand. You wouldn't _appreciate_ the story."

Jacob sat down on her bed again. "I get the story. Girl meets guy. Guy's an ass. Girl loves him anyway."

"No, no, no. That's not the story at all. It's about overcoming adversity, and about love."

Jacob shrugged like he was giving up. "I still don't get why you were crying. If it's about love or whatever, why's it sad?"

"Jacob, I wasn't crying because it was sad." She was nervous to look up at him, and when she did, she was surprised to find him already watching her with a nonsensical amount of curiosity.

His voice came out so quietly: "Then why were you crying?" He was so desperate to understand, so eager to fill his well of Renesmee-related knowledge.

Nessie sat next to him on the bed. "I don't know. Because it's a happy book? Because everybody gets a happy ending? Because, in the end, all their fighting pays off and everything's worth it? Because they fall in love."

She looked at him again, and he was still staring at her. His expression was strange, like he was trying to work out a difficult problem.

Renesmee was suddenly self-conscious. "What? Am I only supposed to cry at sad books?" She was trying to be mad, but her voice was a whisper. "Is there something wrong with love being more moving than death?" Why were they whispering?

She realised how stupid she was sounding and waited for him to make fun of her like he usually did. But he just whispered, "You're a romantic, Nessie."

"Is that bad?"

Whisper: "Of course it's not bad."

The phone on her dresser buzzed and Nessie's eyes snapped away from Jacob's so she could get to it. A text from her dad: they'd be home soon. His timing was always impeccable. Jacob shrugged like his shoulders had tightened. "Romance just makes you a bit of a sop," he told her. Good old Jacob.

Renesmee remembered she was mad at him and shoved his shoulder again. "Shut up."

"I'm kidding, Ness," he said. He stood up and started going through her collection of CDs, which she was sure he already knew the contents of. He turned around suddenly, and said with complete uncertainty: "I'm your best friend, Nessie, right?"

Renesmee stared at him for a moment, shocked beyond speech. Best friend? Of course he was her best friend. She was closer to him than anyone else in the world. If anything, _best friend_ wasn't strong enough.

"Of course, Jacob. Of course you're my best friend." And before she could think to stop herself, her arms were around him and her cheek was on his chest. "Who else would it be, Jake? Who else?"

They stayed like that for a long while, neither really wanting to move. But she eventually pulled back and as she did Jacob asked: "So – you're coming to La Push tomorrow?"

_Of course, Jacob. Of course I'm coming. I'd go to the end of the world to be with you._ "Sure," she said. "If you like."

Jacob smiled and the sun shone in her bedroom at eleven o'clock at night.

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><p><strong>COMING UP . . .<strong>

He smiled then and took a step closer. "I don't know, Ness. You're getting really old now." He squinted at her. "Is that a gray hair?"

She stormed past him, down the worn path in the forest, infuriated. But she barely got five steps before he caught her arm. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll do it properly." He was still smiling when she turned around.

He looked at her, and she looked at him, and his eyebrows tightened in concentration, and the smile teetered off his face. It took a hundred years for him to say: "Sixteen." It wasn't a question this time.

Renesmee wanted to say something smart, something witty, something romantic even, but she couldn't think of anything and then the quiet began to envelope her. Words would be wasted in silence that perfect.


	2. The Wish Finder

**Chapter II: The Wish Finder**

"_Wish on everything. Pink cars are good, especially old ones. And stars of course, first stars and shooting stars. Planes will do if they are the first light in the sky and look like stars. Wish in tunnels, holding your breath and lifting your feet off the ground. Birthday candles. Baby teeth." _

—Francesca Lia Block

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Set when Renesmee is physically around fifteen.

Renesmee Cullen's fifth birthday was a quiet affair. Her family friends had a small party at the Cullen house, and really – it was quite perfect.

They sat in the dining room, which got a considerable amount of use seeing as no one who lived there actively ate, and bequeathed presents and ate delicious food late into the night.

Looking back on the night now, Renesmee could remember only one thing with absolute clarity: The birthday wish she got, and how it came to be in her possession.

Alice had brought out a large cake with a single red candle in the middle. "I'm never sure of how many candles to use – you're hardly five – so one is good." She stared at Nessie, who didn't move. "Well, come on. Make a wish!"

"I – umn – okay." She thought about it, really thought about it, and came to the conclusion that there was only one thing in the world she truly wanted. But it involved a certain werewolf and she was acutely aware of her mindreading father.

So eventually she just blew out the candles wishless, and hugged her aunt, and thanked her. She caught Jacob looking at her then, really, _really_ looking, in a way that ignited her insides.

She loved that birthday, and it was the simpleness of it all that made it so amazing. But, thinking back, she realised it wasn't the birthday itself that made the day such a warm memory. It was the part that followed.

When it was reaching about midnight, Jacob came up to her, just as she was finished talking with her uncle, and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to him, and his smile was so warm.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked her.

She was kind of in the middle of being festive and doing birthday things, but going for a walk sounded wonderful.

"Now?" It was pitch black outside.

"Sure."

She cast a glance at her mother, who seemed to have no objections.

"Okay," she said to Jacob. He offered her his hand and she took it gladly.

As they slipped out the back door, Renesmee could feel every pair of eyes trained on her back, but she didn't dare turn around. The chilly September air nipped at her instantly, and she inhaled a cool breath.

"You cold?" Jacob asked her.

"Kind of," she said, so Jacob wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she could feel his heat like a furnace. He led them towards the forest, and the moonlight was sparse when it could no longer shine through the trees. It was dark and cold and, to anyone else, unbelievably scary, but Renesmee felt perfectly at ease in the company of a werewolf.

"So, where are we going?" she asked when they'd travelled about a mile from the house. They were holding hands now.

"I don't really know," he said, and he looked a little sheepish. "I just couldn't talk to you for a minute in there. I wanted to say Happy Birthday. So . . . Happy Birthday."

Renesmee smiled. "Thank you."

Jacob looked up at the sky, and his preoccupied expression told her that he also had an ulterior motive for bringing her outside, but she didn't ask.

"I don't believe you're five already," Jacob said abruptly, but without surprise, like it had been on his mind for awhile.

"I know," she said. "It's . . . very strange." That didn't even _begin_ to sum it up, but how do you explain such confusion in words?

Jacob looked down at her and his expression was odd. "Strange how?" he asked.

He was going to make her explain anyway. _For no one but Jacob_, she thought, _for no one but Jacob_.

"Well, I know I'm five, and I know what a human five year old looks like. And I do _not_ look like I'm five."

"Tell me about it," he said, but under his breath. Renesmee heard it anyway.

"You've noticed?" she asked, unsure why this seemed to matter so much.

"Noticed what? That you're growing? It's hard not to, Nessie. You've jumped, like, three years since summer."

That wasn't exactly the answer she'd been hoping for. Jacob looked back up at the sky again.

A sudden burst of curiosity made her pause. Her hand was still tied to Jacob's so he was forced to stop, too.

"How old do you think I look?" she asked, uncertain of where this feeling of confidence had come from.

"What?" He looked at her like she'd asked for the cure to cancer.

"Come on," she said. "How old?"

"I don't know, Ness. Let's keep walking."

"Jake," she said. "Please. Just humour me."

"I don't have a clue about" – he gestured to her in general – "that kind of stuff. Ask one of your aunts, or something."

"But I don't want to know what they think. I want to know what _you_ think."

Jacob dropped her hand. It felt like ice when it reached her side.

"It doesn't matter what I think—" he started to say, but Nessie cut him off sharply.

"Of course it matters what you think. You're my best friend, Jacob. Of course it matters." Something in her tone caught him.

Jacob signed as though this was going to require the most obscene amount of pain. He didn't even look at her when he asked: "Twelve?"

"What?" she scoffed. "I look way older than _twelve_."

"I don't know then. Twenty?"

Renesmee rolled her eyes. "Twenty? You think I look _twenty_? Will you take this seriously, Jacob, please?"

"I am."

"You're not even looking."

He looked. His expression grew serious. "I don't know, Ness. You're getting really old now." He squinted at her. "Is that a gray hair?"

She stormed past him, down the worn path in the forest, infuriated. But she barely got five steps before he caught her arm. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll do it properly." He was still smiling when she turned around.

He looked at her, and she looked at him, and his eyebrows tightened in concentration, and his smile teetered off his face. It took a hundred years for him to say: "Fifteen."

Renesmee wanted to say something smart, something witty, something romantic even, but she couldn't think of anything and then the quiet began to envelope her. Words would be wasted in silence that perfect.

After a while, Jacob took her hand again and they continued down the forest trail. They didn't say anything, and Jacob seemed to be always looking for something, but it was in the most comfortable of stillnesses.

They'd been waking for twenty minutes, when Jacob stopped suddenly in a small clearing. He let go of Renesmee, and she was just about to protest when he laid down on the grass.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously. It felt like the first time she'd spoken in decades.

"I'm looking for something," he told her simply and put his hands behind his head to relax. His long black hair sprawled on the grass. She liked it that way.

"On the ground?"

He pointed upward. "No. In the stars."

What could she say to something like that? So she lay down next to him in the almost-dry grass and watched him as he watched the stars.

The moonlight played tricks with his brown skin, and Nessie was so enrapt by it, she took a moment to realise he was speaking. "I'm sorry, what?"

Jacob tilted his head to the side to look at her. His nose was two inches from hers and Nessie was so sure she was about to implode from the proximity. She could feel his breath on her cheeks and her head swam in everything that was Jacob. She wrapped her hands around her arms to hold herself together, for she was surly about to crumble into pieces.

He didn't even seem to notice. How was he so unfazed by her, when she was so intoxicated by him?

"_I said_, I haven't given you your present yet."

"Oh." Nessie blinked and shook her head clean. "You don't need to give me—"

He cut her off before she could really start. "Yeah, yeah. You say that every year. I'm just telling you in case you're wondering." Jacob looked back up to the sky then, and she released a long breath.

"Okay. I won't wonder."

His eyes were searching the heavens when he said: "You'll have to wait for it. It kind of comes with a whole _thing_, and that's not 'till next month."

"What kind of thing?" she asked, and sat up. She stretched her arms around her. She didn't really know what they were doing on the ground anyway.

"It would ruin the surprise if I told you."

"O-kay." She waited for him to say something. He didn't. "One little hint?"

He grinned at her. "So impatient. Sorry, Ness. You're just gonna' have to wait."

She huffed out a breath of midnight air, and could see it in the moonlight. There was going to be a thing? Jacob was doing a thing for her birthday? What could—

"Nessie!" he said suddenly, and she turned to him instantly. "Look!"

"What? What is it?" She searched around her.

"Come here!" he said, and when she didn't move, he yanked her arm and pulled her into his warm side and hissed: "Quick! Look, look."

"What's wrong, Jacob?"

He just pointed above them, and Nessie stared through the parting in the trees. And then she saw it, just before it disappeared – a shooting star.

"Quick!" he said again. "Make your wish."

"What?"

"You didn't make a wish with your birthday candles. Make one now."

_How_ had he known that? "I – umn – I don't know what to wish for."

"It doesn't matter," he told her. "Just close your eyes and think of something."

Renesmee closed her eyes, relaxed into his shoulder, and thought desperately hard about what she could wish for, but all she could really concentrate on was Jacob. Sometimes it still surprised her just how much attention he paid to her. He had noticed she didn't make a wish. He somehow knew she wanted one. So he laid in the grass and found one for her.

That was exactly why she was falling in love with this boy: he found her wishes.

She opened her eyes after a while, and he was smiling at her. She didn't need a wish. She had all she could ever want right in front of her. "Here," she said and held out her hand. "Take it."

Jacob's eyes were curious when he opened his palm. "Take what?"

"My wish. I couldn't think of anything good." He made a face at her, but she just said: "Hurry! Before it runs out! These things have expiry dates, you know."

He smiled his greatest, happiest, Jacoby smile as she placed her invisible wish in his hand. His fingers closed around it immediately. His voice was quiet: "Nessie, I don't need it. I have nothing to wish for."

She considered him seriously. "Neither do I." The cool air rushed past her shoulders and she suppressed a shiver. "What a waste."

Jacob looked from her to his closed hand and, with a voice equally serious, he said: "No, you take it. It's your birthday."

"Jacob, I—"

He reached across and opened the locket on her neck that her mother had given her as a baby and he opened it. With big theatricalities, he made a show of locking in her wish. "Save it. For when you do need one."

"You're ridiculous," she told him.

He shrugged. "Maybe." And he looked back up to the sky.

Renesmee rolled her eyes, but at the same time wrapped her fingers around the locket that now meant more to her than he could ever imagine.

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* * *

><p><strong>COMING UP . . .<strong>

In her mind, Jacob appeared, telling her to calm down and close her eyes and take a deep breath, like he always did.

So she did. And she started to relax.

Until Emmett was roaring himself hoarse.

"The brakes! _Hit the goddamned brakes!_"

But it was too late. The car crashed into a tree just as Renesmee slammed the brakes. She tensed for the pain, waited to wallop into the steering wheel, but Emmett yanked her out of the car before any damage was done.

She watched as the Volvo's hood bended itself around the trunk. Billows of smoke seeped from the engine. The car alarm blared.


	3. That Which Does Not Kill You

**Chapter III: That Which Does Not Kill You**

"_Driving at the speed limit—hideous thought."  
><em>—Stephenie Meyer

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Set when Renesmee is physically around sixteen

It was gloomy and rainy and, as far as weather went, a pretty miserable day in Forks. Renesmee paced the length of her grandfather Carlisle's bookshelf, which reached from the ground to the height of the ceiling and covered the entire wall.

She was fresh out of reading material. She made a soft noise of frustration. _Wuthering Heights_ was sitting ostentatiously on her dresser at home in her room. At the first sign of book shortage, her mother had thrust her tattered copy under her nose and insisted upon her reading it. However, that was two weeks ago and the book still sat untouched.

There was something extremely . . . _Bella_ about that book, and Nessie just wasn't ready to settle into that read again.

So she came to the big house in search of entertainment. Grandpa Carlisle was, as he always is, absolutely delighted to open his library to her. But his tastes in reading were somewhat more serious than hers. She wasn't really in the mood to read about William Harvey's discovery of blood circulation.

She gave up and made her way back down the stairs, at the bottom of which her parents sat engaged in a game of chess. This was generally quite an amusing way to spend the afternoon, watching her mother and father battle for kings. She wasn't really in the humour for it today, however.

"Look at this, Nessie," her mother called. Bella swiped her queen across the board and captured his rook. "Check."

Edward eyes darted around the squares with lighting precision, searching for an out. His knight took her queen, but she soon had him cornered again.

"I think she's got you, Dad," Renesmee whispered to his ear.

Edward chest inflated infinitesimally. "Of course she doesn't. I'm merely considering my options."

Nessie rolled her eyes. Her mother was the only one who could equal him in chess, and that wasn't because of his insurmountable talent for the game. He just usually cheated. With his mind.

"It's not cheating, Renesmee."

She nodded indifferently and moved to look out one of the grand panelled windows. She was supposed to be spending the day with Jacob, but there was some last minute emergency or something and he had to work.

It sucked that he was a grown up sometimes.

"He said he'd call over after work, Nessie," Edward said without looking up from the board.

"I know," she said. She sighed and sat down to watch the end of their game. Bella won the first, Edward the second.

Suddenly, from across the room, Emmett whistled. Nessie's eyes flashed to him. With one finger, he beckoned her over to him. Did he really _whistle_ at her?

He was sitting in the living room, next to Rosalie, one of those ridiculous action movies that he loved so dearly playing on the television. "What?" she said indignantly when she reached him. "I'm not a dog."

"_You're_ not," Rosalie said. "But the company you keep . . ."

Renesmee rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Uncle Em?"

"Hey!" he whispered. "I was trying to save you."

"From what?"

"Dying of boredom. You can't spend your Saturdays watching your parents play chess, kid."

"I didn't intend to," she said, and she looked a bit lost.

She must have looked very lost, because Emmett moved to the other end of the sofa to make room for her between him and his wife. He tapped the cushion. "Come on," he said.

Renesmee smiled and squashed in between them. "I was supposed to go to Jake's house. But he had to work." In fairness to Jacob, this was the first and only time he had ever cancelled anything with her. And he hadn't even cancelled – he just postponed.

"What am I always saying about stray dogs?" Rosalie asked. "Filthy, unreliable things."

Renesmee rolled her eyes again. "I know," she agreed. "Filthy."

The adverts to the movie they were watching ended and Emmett sat up straight again. "Now, watch this," he told Nessie. "It will cheer you up."

It was, as Renesmee expected it to be, an utterly ridiculous film.

She didn't say anything, though, because her uncle Emmett was obviously enjoying it, and he was being really nice and she didn't want to spoil it for him.

That was until the stunts began to test the laws of gravity. She couldn't help herself then. "That's so stupid!" she said.

Emmett didn't look up from the television. "What is?"

"This car chase!"

"What are you talking about? This is one of the best movies ever made."

"Fine, but, _come on_." She waved her hand haphazardly in the direction of the television. "He can't drive through a pedestrian street _and_ lean out of the car window _and_ shoot at the same time. No one can drive like that."

"Uh—" Emmett looked at her disapprovingly "—some of us can."

"No one without vampire powers."

"I could do that before I was a vampire."

"They had cars all the way back then?"

"How old do you think I am?"

Renesmee didn't answer that. Smart girl. She said instead: "He's too young to be driving, anyway."

"Nah, kids drive at that age nowadays."

"I don't."

Silence.

"You should."

Silence.

"I should?"

"You're a Cullen, aren't you?" Emmet asked. "All Cullen's are impeccable drivers. Edward?" he called, which wasn't very necessary because, A) Edward was just across the room, and B) Edward was a vampire.

"Absolutely not," her father said, without even looking up from his game.

Emmett squinted at his niece. "I think she should. She's old enough now."

Edward looked at him as though he asked to chop Nessie up and broil her on the stove. "She's six years old."

"I thought we agreed I'm sixteen?" Nessie said. "Physically."

"I guess we did," Bella said. Carlisle's monthly measurements were very accurate.

Edward moved his disbelieving look to his wife. "Bella. She's still six."

Bella looked at Nessie. Nessie looked at Bella. "She is the oldest, most responsible six year old I know."

Her father, his eyes sewn together with panic, directed his next question at Renesmee. "Do you want to learn, Nessie?"

_"_Yes!" she said, and she turned to give him her best puppy dog eyes. "I'd be so careful, Daddy, please."

Edward considered it very seriously for a moment. "Well, I guess we could try—"

"Ahhh!" She jumped up off the sofa.

"—but there are conditions."

"Of course."

"Firstly, you learn in the Volvo."

"Come _on_, Edward," Emmett groaned. "She'll have no fun in that. I'll bring down my truck and—"

"My biggest priority right now is safety, Emmett. No trucks." He turned back to Renesmee. "Secondly, you have to listen carefully to me, Nessie. Do exactly as I say. It's vitally impor—"

"You'd swear she was performing heart surgery," Emmett muttered to Rosalie. "He's going to drain all the enjoyment out of it."

"Emmett!" he snapped.

"Alright, alright," Emmett relented. "I'll go drag _the Volvo_ from the garage," he said and started towards the door.

"What?" Edward asked. "You're not helping."

"Little Nessie Cullen behind the wheel of a car? You expect me to miss that?" And then he had disappeared.

It all happened very quickly. One minute she was sitting in the living room watching a terrible movie, the next she was sitting behind the wheel of her dad's oldest car.

Edward sat in the passenger's seat. Jasper sat in the back seat, leaning through the middle so his head was only inches from hers. Jasper had been granted entrance to the car because tensions were running high and they figured his talents would be of use. Emmett sat beside him, bouncing with excitement.

"You'll do great, sweetheart," Bella said, leaning in the driver's window. "I know you will. Your father's an excellent teacher." Renesmee might have believed her, too, if Bella hadn't said immediately afterward that she was going to watch from inside. "Too many people will make you nervous," she said.

But Nessie knew her mother was worried that she had too much Bella in her. She had definitely inherited her mother's former terrible coordination.

"I'll be right inside, okay?" She kissed Nessie on the forehead. "You'll be fantastic, like you are at everything else." Renesmee made a face. "Good luck!" Her mother danced off inside.

"Okay then?" she said, and she put her hands on the wheel.

No one seemed to know what to do next.

She was so nervous. Ever butterfly in the world had migrated to her stomach. She could feel their wings beating against her insides.

The car was deathly silent.

"Okay then," Edward said. "First things first. Buckle your seatbelt."

Emmett actually snorted. The tension immediately diffused and Renesmee released a string of butterfly-filled laughter into the air. Even from inside, you could hear Bella's golden giggles.

"I have _never_," Renesmee wheezed, one hand on her stomach to hold herself together, "seen you wear a seatbelt."

Edward bristled. "Maybe not, but, Renesmee, so help me God, if you ever get behind the wheel of _any_ car without a seatbelt—"

"Alright, alright," she said. "I'll wear the seatbelt." She sighed as she repositioned herself in the driver seat – he could be such a _hypocrite_.

"Hey," her father said. "I heard that."

"Sorry," she muttered.

"So," Edward said. "This is a stick shift. If you learn on an automatic, you'll never get the stick."

"Okay."

"Okay. Right pedal is the gas, left is the clutch, middle is the brake. You use your right foot on the accelerator and brake. Got it?"

She looked at her father. "You drive with two feet all the time."

"I've been driving for a very long time. For now, and until you're about fifty, you use one foot."

"One foot," she said, glancing up in the rear-view mirror at Uncle Jasper, who smiled devilishly back at her. "Got it."

Waves of soothing, relaxing, soporific energy emanated from the backseat.

She wanted to thank Jasper, but didn't dare look away from the levers her father was pointing out. "This is your turn signal," he was saying, leaning over to point. "And this one you use to shift. Now, you want to pull it toward you and—"

She tried and the car lurched forward a foot and then deadpanned.

There was silence.

Edward cleared his throat. "I hadn't finished explaining. Keep your feet off the pedals for a moment."

Renesmee's fingers flexed over the steering wheel. "I think you should put on your seatbelt, too."

Edward smiled like it was ridiculous, but he still fastened it around himself. "Right pedal is the gas, middle is the brake, left is the clutch?"

"Right – gas. Left – clutch. Okay."

"Okay. Let's get started. Take a deep, calming breath." She snapped her head to him and glared.

"I _am_ calm."

"Take a breath and press down on the clutch with your right foot."

She did. "Alright. Now what?"

"Now you shift the car into drive. You just – yeah, that's it – pull it towards you."

"Now what?"

"Press down – _gently_ – on the gas."

With immeasurable trepidation, she softly eased her foot onto the accelerator. The car sputtered and died.

It took eleven more tries before she got it successfully into first gear.

"Alright – okay – good – that's great, Nessie."

"You're a pro, darlin'," Jasper said behind her. She smiled and looked at him through the mirror.

"Thanks, Uncle Jazz—"

"Renesmee, keep your eyes on the road!" her father all but shouted.

"What? I – ahh!" She slammed her foot on the brakes.

The car stuttered to a halt.

More silence, and then—

"Why did you stop?"

"Why did you shout at me?" Renesmee said indignantly

"I didn't shout. You've just got to play attention, Nessie."

"I just looked in the mirror. You have to do that when you drive! Beside, I'm only going, like, four miles an hour."

"Okay. Let's just try again. Gas pedal – a little harder. Perfect."

They were coming to the end of the driveway. Renesmee's thoughts went haywire to panic. "What – am I – am I going out on the road?"

"Yeah," Edward said. "Slow down a bit and take the left. Don't worry, on one drives along here. Slowly, alright? Very, very slowly."

Renesmee flipped the indicator and she very slowly turned out onto the main road. Her speed climbed steadily, and she was almost enjoying herself when:

"Change the gear. Nessie – clutch, gear."

She glanced down at her feet and then at the gear stick.

"Eyes on the road!" her father hollered.

"I'm trying to change gear!"

"Too fast. Renesmee, slow down!"

Renesmee grunted and slammed her foot on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt.

Edward sat up in his seat. "Well, I think that's maybe enough for today."

"No, no, Nessie's just getting good," Emmett said. He sounded like he was enjoying this.

"I wouldn't call it good," Renesmee muttered.

"Neither would I. I was trying to be nice."

"You're doing fine," her father assured her, shooting daggers over his shoulder at his brother.

Renesmee focused on the wheel. She had never been _fine_ at anything before in her life. She had never been anything less than excellent. Less than the best. This was a strange experience for her. She wanted to talk to Jacob.

Edward sighed. "Turn around here and we can head back to the house."

Renesmee flicked the turn signal and shifted the car into reverse. It was slow, painful process. She would back up too far and go into the ditch, and then go forward too far and into the opposite ditch. She cut out the engine a lot.

Driving, as it happened, was difficult.

And learning to drive with a father who could read your thoughts was significantly more difficult.

The return journey sounded something like this—

Edward: "No, Renesmee, no – you're not doing it right."

Renesmee: "I'm doing _exactly_ what you told me to."

Edward: "I did _not_ tell you to swerve into the middle of the road!"

Renesmee: "I didn't _mean_ to do that!"

Edward: "Will you please concentrate on what you're doing."

Renesmee: "How am I supposed to concentrate when you're shouting in my ear the whole time?"

Edward: "I'm teaching you, Renesmee, not shouting."

Renesmee: "Oh, well, you could have fooled me."

And then there would be an uncomfortable silenced, followed by either Emmett laughing inappropriately and making some snide comment about women drivers, or Jasper sending waves of calming energy forward in the hopes of bridging some peace.

"Turn signal, Renesmee," Edward said. "Turn signal!"

For the umpteenth time that day, Renesmee slammed on the brakes. "That's it!" she cried. "That's it." She turned to her father with venom in her eyes. "I cannot drive all the way back home with you snipping at me the whole time! I just can't!"

Sometimes, Edward's daughter frustrated him without even meaning to. She could manage it by just being his daughter. They were too alike, Bella often said, so they bumped heads easily. Their tempers were the same.

"Well, Renesmee," (it was beginning to annoy her, the way he kept using her full name. It meant he was mad at her) "I don't see any alternative. You're just going to have to suck it up if you want to learn how to drive."

"I don't," she snapped back. "Not this much." She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. "I'll walk."

Edward stared open-mouthed as she slammed the door. He was discovering how distinctly teenagers differed from children. "You _are not_ walking—" he began, climbing out the passenger side, but Emmett intervened.

"I think I have an idea," he said.

"Not now," Edward said, his eyes on his daughter who was taking visibly calming breaths.

"No, really." Emmett looked enthusiastic. "You need to cool off, Edward. Why don't you walk, and I'll drive back with Nessie?"

"No, I don't need—"

"That might be a good idea." Jasper was standing off to the side a bit, avoiding the conflict. "You two aren't best together in confined spaces when you're annoyed."

Edward looked at his daughter. "Is that alright with you?"

"Fine." She got back into the car.

Emmett made his way to join her, when Edward caught him. "Be careful with her. She's more brakeable than you're used to."

He smiled. "I always am."

Renesmee had settled back into the driver's seat when Emmett slid in next to her. "Alright, Nessie! Are you ready for some real driving?"

She tied her seatbelt and tried to be positive. "Absolutely."

He gestured freely to the open road. "Then whenever you're ready."

Her knuckles were white against the black wheel. She started the car slowly (it only took her four tries this time) and pulled out onto the road.

After a few minutes, he said, a bit disgruntled, "Forget what your dad said. Kick it up a gear. Let the wind in your hair."

She tried to look at him and look at the road. "What?"

"Driving fast _will not_ kill you."

"It won't kill _you_, Uncle Em."

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously. Let loose a little.

So she sped up. And then she sped up a little more. And then she found that, like the rest of her family, she enjoyed moving quickly. So she sped up _a lot_ more.

"Now we're talking!" Emmett was grinning madly, watching her like she was a crazed woman.

The engine strained and she knew she was in the wrong gear. But the process of changing it seemed uncomprehendingly difficult. And she remembered how expressly her father had asked her to go slowly, just for the first time. And the car was really going too fast. And Renesmee was getting altogether too stressed. She tried to relax.

In her mind, Jacob appeared, telling her to calm down and close her eyes and take a deep breath, like he always did.

So she did. And she started to relax.

Until Emmett was roaring himself hoarse.

"The brakes! _Hit the goddamned brakes!_"

But it was too late. The car crashed into a tree just as Renesmee slammed the brakes. She tensed for the pain, waited to wallop into the steering wheel, but Emmett yanked her out of the car before any damage was done.

She watched as the Volvo's hood bended itself around the trunk. Billows of smoke seeped from the engine. The car alarm blared.

She turned to her uncle. He had no sympathy for her.

_"Why the hell did you close your eyes?_" he screamed over the blaring.

"I don't know!" she screamed back.

"Edward's gonna kill me!"

"_You_? I was the one driving his precious Volvo!"

"Yeah, and _I_ was looking after you!"

"Oh, God."

Emmett took a deep breath. "Hey, at least you're still alive. You know what they say . . . that which does not kill you—"

The alarm stopped abruptly, and Nessie looked up to find her father and Jasper standing beside the car, which was still coughing and spitting fumes.

Edward darted around the wreckage to his daughter. He gingerly placed a hand on either of her cheeks. "What – what happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he asked, horrified, checking her over for injuries.

"No. I'm fine," she whispered, her voice lost all of a sudden.

"There's not a scratch on her, Edward," Emmett said. "I got her out before."

"Really?" Once he assured she was perfectly intact, he seemed to realise that she had just totalled his car. "I've had that since before you were born."

"I know, Daddy. I'm so, _so_ sorry. I panicked!"

He let go of her. "So I can see."

No one said anything for what seemed like a very long time.

Emmett took a step back. "I'll run up to the main house. Get the truck so we can – uh – get towing."

"Emmett!" Nessie whipped around. She was waiting for him to defend her, not run away. He was, after all, the one who offered to teach her in the first place.

"What?" he said. Was he _laughing_? "I didn't know you'd be so terrible!"

Not a moment later Bella appeared, her face aghast. "My God. What happened?"

Renesmee put her head in her hands. This was horrible.

"Well," Emmett said, and if he wasn't such a loving uncle, Nessie could have sworn he was enjoying this. "It appears we found something little Renesmee isn't good at."

.

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* * *

><p><strong>COMING UP . . .<strong>

She tried to shake her head out of it – what did it matter to her if Jacob was with a girl? A whole legion of girls? It shouldn't matter one bit.

But it did.

God, it mattered.

"Nessie?" Jacob was asking. "Are you alright?" He stepped in front of her.

"Yeah," she told him, and before she could stop herself, a haphazard, fatal sentence leapt put of her mouth—

—"I'm just wondering why I've never met any of _your_ girlfriends," she blurted.

Noise drained around them like air from a punctured balloon. It went deathly quiet. Painstakingly quiet. So quiet she could hear the blood pump through her veins.


	4. Unarticulated Problems of the Heart

**Chapter IV: Unarticulated Problems of the Heart**

"_An unarticulated crush is very different from an unrequited one, because at least with an unrequited crush you know what the hell you're doing, even if the other person isn't doing it back._

_An unarticulated crush is harder to grapple with, because it's a crush that you haven't even admitted to yourself. The romantic forces are all there - you want to see him, you always notice him, you treat every word from him as if it weighs more than anyone else's. But you don't know why. You don't know that you're doing it. You'd follow him to the end of the earth without ever admitting that your feet were moving."  
><em>—David Levithan

.

.

.

.

.

Continued . . .

Jacob headed to the Cullen house that evening. Edward had said they would be at the main house, but he had barely entered the forest when he heard the most familiar sound in the world to him. Not a mile from where he stood, a half-human heart was beating frantically.

Naturally, without considering it, he was off in her direction. Past trees and stumps and animals. He found her almost instantly. She wasn't crying, like he had originally thought. She was pacing. And she was flustered.

So much so, that she hardly noticed him until he put a hand on her arm. She jumped a foot in the air for fright, placed a hand over her heart as she landed.

"Oh, Jake." She sighed, relieved. "It's you." She craned her head either side of her neck. Her bones were stiff, if animated they would have creaked. How long had she been here?

It's not that Nessie didn't hug him – she did. A lot. But she usually didn't hug him with such reckless abandon as she did right then. Without much forewarning, she wrapped her arms fiercely around his chest and pressed her cheek to his heart.

He had seen her yesterday – one day ago – but in that moment, she embraced him like she hadn't seen him in years, hadn't hugged him in centuries.

He, of course, hugged her back instantly. "It's good to see you, too," he huffed into her hair, trying to be cool. But however hard he tried, he was not immune to the scent in her hair, or the lilt in her voice, or the curve of her hips against his.

She relaxed into his arms, and some of the tension in her bones dissipated tangibly.

"Hey," he said, trying to realign himself. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she mumbled to his t-shirt. "I had a miserable day."

A frown appeared between his brow. "Is that why you're outside?"

"Yeah," she mumbled again. "I had to get out of the house."

"What happened?" Jacob asked, and he started when he found his hand on her head, lacing in her hair.

Renesmee looked at him. She reached for his hand the same moment he reached for hers and they met somewhere in the middle. They slowly started back to the house and Jacob asked again. "What happened today?"

She looked uncomfortable. "Uncle Em – he, uh, tried to entertain me."

"Oh." That wasn't quite what he had expected. "How was that?"

"They – uh – well; we were talking about cars and stuff, so they tried to teach me to drive."

"Really?" He felt his face fall a little. "And how did that go?"

She groaned. "Terrible."

"Please. I'm sure you were formula one standard by lunch time."

"Oh, Jake. I really wasn't."

"I'm sorry I missed that," he said quietly.

"You didn't miss much." It took her what felt like years to say: "I just totalled Dad's car."

Jacob stopped walking. "No way," he said. "You didn't."

"Oh, but I did."

He grinned madly, gave her hand a shake. "Now I'm really sorry I missed it."

She shoved him back. "Shut up. This is not funny! I was driving _the Volvo_."

He caught her hand on his chest and made a face like he was in pain. "I feel for you, Ness. I really do."

She scowled playfully and pushed him again.

There was silence for a moment.

It was Renesmee this time who took her hand back. They continued quietly towards the house again. It was almost in full view when Jacob spoke.

"Hey, Ness?"

"Yeah?"

"How about I teach you to drive?"

"What?"

"How about I teach you to drive."

She gaped at him incredulously. "What – did you not just hear how appalling I am?"

He nodded like this was obvious. "All the more reason to practice."

She eyed him madly. He eyed her back.

"Yes?" he urged, and she shrugged noncommittally. "Come on, then," he said, grinning

"Wait – what? _Now_?"

"No time like the present."

"Jacob?" She stopped short and pulled him back to her. "I'd love to learn with you – I really would – but there's no way my parents will let me. I mean, didn't I _tell_ you about the Volvo?"

He considered it a moment. "Are they inside?" He motioned towards the house, and she nodded. "How mad is he?"

"Not very," Nessie said, and he could tell she was surprised by it.

"Edward?" Jacob said, not any louder than when he'd been talking to her. He appeared at the door in a moment. Had he been listening? Probably. He usually did. "Do you have any problems with my teaching your daughter to drive?"

From across the grass, Edward appraised him in his usual fatherly way, with that look which never left his eyes, however old Nessie grew.

There was silence, and Edward frowned "Nessie?" he asked.

"I'll be careful. Uh – more careful than before, that is—"

"I'll watch her," Jacob assured him.

He relented before them. "Make sure with your mother," he said, and Nessie darted up the steps and kissed him on the cheek before going inside.

_I was thinking of taking her to La Push,_ Jacob thought. Edward nodded.

"Just bring her back before it gets dark. And make sure she doesn't hurt herself, Jacob."

_I always do_, Jacob thought. _I always do_.

* * *

><p>"How am I supposed to drive on sand?" Renesmee asked, staring with distaste at the beach around her.<p>

"I told you," Jacob said, and got out of the driver seat, "it's easier. I learnt on sand. Now – come on." He closed the door and banged on the hood of the car. "Hop out."

Slowly and with trepidation, she climbed out of the passenger side and walked around to meet him. "I don't know, Jake . . ." She looked down the beach to where a couple of his friends had gathered. "Maybe we should leave it for today?"

"Nessie. You'll do great." He left her then; walked around to the passenger side of this shabby car and climbed in.

"Where did you get this colourful piece of work?" she asked him, for want of a distraction, leaning in the driver's window.

"It was in the garage."

"Why can't I try in your new one?"

He made a _you-wish_ kind of face. "I saw what happened to the Volvo." He leaned across to her. "Now, get in."

She frowned and begrudgingly climbed in after him. All of a sudden, she busied herself: She adjusted the seat to reach the pedals, put on her seatbelt, changed the angle of the mirrors, turned off the radio, turned on the air conditioning, opened the window, tied up her hair and, when she was finished, stared wistfully out at the ocean.

When she risked a glance at Jacob, he was grinning at her. "Ready, then?"

"No," she grumbled. "I've had a change of heart."

"No you haven't."

"I just don't want to wreck your car."

"Then you're in luck – this isn't my car."

She _huff_ed and sat straighter in her seat.

There was silence.

Jacob reached his hands out in front of him, like a warm-up stretch. He put on his seatbelt. "Okay – first off: hands on the steering wheel."

"I'd really rather not."

"Nessie, normally I'd never ask you to do anything you don't want to, but this is an exception," he said, and then he reached down to take one of her hands. He unfurled her rigid fingers and wrapped them around the wheel.

"Jake, normally I'd put my hands anywhere you wanted me to, but this is an exception," she replied, flexing her fingers.

Jacob looked away from her, out the passanger window. She could see colour rising up his neck. It took her a moment to process what she said, and another moment to figure out why it embarrassed him.

When she did, she sank into her seat and died a little.

"God – that's not what I – I didn't mean – that didn't came out the way I wanted."

Jacob laughed, but his voice had an almost imperceptible strain when he said, "Just take the wheel. Please."

Grudgingly, she did.

"Turn the key to the right and ease down on the accelerator. That's the secon—"

"No, no, I know how to do all the basics."

"Okay – then what's the problem?

"Oh, I'm just not very good at them."

Jacob smiled and she put the car into a slow advance. As she built up speed, he asked: "So, how'd you crash the Volvo?"

It was Renesmee's turn to blush. She started to say something, but stopped herself. It was difficult, she found. She wasn't used to being . . . _bad_ at things. It kind of felt like admitting defeat.

"Well," she said, keeping her eyes on the beach ahead of her. "I was driving with Emmett . . ."

". . . And . . .?"

"And nothing, really. You know Emmett. He's . . . distracting."

"Nessie?"

"What? That's what happened." He looked at her with his _I-know-you're-lying_ face, and she relented. "God, Jacob Black, have I ever told you you're so annoying?"

He smiled again. "I think it's been said."

And so she told him. About the driving and the crashing and the closing of her eyes. He laughed, sympathetically, of course, or so he said. It was pretty funny though, if she thought about it. Honestly – she closed her eyes. While driving.

What else did she expect to happen?

"Oh, Nessie," he said, wheezing. "That's priceless."

"Yeah, yeah," she scoffed. "Hilarious."

He waited a moment before asking, "How mad was he?" Renesmee didn't say anything because she didn't know how to answer. "That bad, huh?"

She stopped the car, none too gracefully, and turned to look at him. "That's the thing – he wasn't really mad at all. I don't understand why."

"You're obviously more important than a car, Nessie."

She had to make herself look away. She had to. She was falling into his deep brown eyes again. One day, she would find herself lost in them, and she couldn't afford that kind of heartbreak.

"Wanna take a break?" she asked.

"We haven't been trying very long."

"Come on," she said, and climbed out of the car. Jacob followed her, came around to her side. She was looking down the beach, to where Jacob's friends were. Quil was there, with little Claire on his shoulders; and Seth with a girl she didn't recognise.

"Who's that?" she asked. Jacob followed her gaze down the water.

"Seth," he said, "and Quil."

"No, I mean the girl."

"Oh. Lisa." Nessie eyed him searchingly and he elaborated. "Seth's girlfriend. Well, sort of."

Renesmee froze, ice licked up her spine and left her so still it was painful. Seth had a _girlfriend_. Of course she realised that didn't mean Jacob had a girlfriend, too, but she had made it her business to never consider the two together.

Jacob and girlfriends.

He was still talking, telling her that she was the girl who worked at the kiosk on the beach. But her brain was jammed in a constant loop. _Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend._ The word was seeping into her bone marrow.

She didn't want to have this discussion with him. She didn't want to talk of girlfriends or boyfriends or lovers or relationships or weddings. She didn't want him to find his soul mate and leave her behind. She wondered so often why he hadn't already.

She didn't want to, but she couldn't stop herself when Jacob said, quite proudly, "I introduced them."

"Oh, you know her?" she asked, wondering if Jacob could hear the rattle in her voice, could feel the sadness in her soul.

"A little. She always in town, so . . ."

"She's very pretty," Nessie said, and then bit her tongue.

Jacob looked back down the beach, to the four figures. "I guess . . ." he said, but there was no conviction behind it. "I mean, Seth seems to think so. I'd never really noticed."

She found a certain solace in that.

She tried to shake her head out of it – what did it matter to her if Jacob was with a girl? A whole legion of girls? It shouldn't matter one bit.

But it did.

God, it mattered.

"Nessie?" Jacob was asking. "Are you alright?" He stepped in front of her.

"Yeah," she told him, and before she could stop herself, a haphazard, fatal sentence leapt put of her mouth—

—"I'm just wondering why I've never met any of _your_ girlfriends," she blurted.

Noise drained around them like air from a punctured balloon. It went deathly quiet. Painstakingly quiet. So quiet she could hear the blood pump through her veins.

Jacob stared at her as if she had asked the most appalling, disgusting, _shocking_ question ever conceived.

She was in unchartered territory. And she was unwelcome.

He watched her with his deep brown eyes. And he frowned. He frowned deeply. He looked sad, almost . . . _guilty_? Did he really feel bad for not talking to her, for not telling her about his girlfriend? Did he think she couldn't handle it? He was right.

Alarms bells started to go off in her head. _"Fix this! Fix this!"_ they screamed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to pry, or anything, I've just never noticed – you don't have to tell me if you don't want. I'm probably just being nosey – what I mean is – ugh – God—"

"Nessie," he said, shaking his head. "Honey."

She started a little—Jacob didn't just throw around pet names like _honey_ or _sweetie_ or _baby_. When he said them, he meant them. She could count the number of times he'd called her 'honey' before on one hand.

"I don't . . . I don't _have girlfriends_."

This answer surprised her. She was prepared to hear something entirely different, like about the secret fiancé he forgotten to mention.

"You – _why_?"

"Because I don't date." He said this with force and definition, with unquestionable resolve.

"At all?"

"What? No." His head was still rocketing from side to side. "Not at all."

A heaviness lifted from her chest, one she hadn't noticed was there. She knew she should have shut up then, but she couldn't help herself. "Why not?"

"Why would I?"

This question confused her. "The same reasons everyone else does." He didn't say anything, so she continued. "So you don't want to marry anyone? Ever?"

Jacob alone seemed worse to her than Jacob with someone else. At least with another girl he'd be happy, he'd never be lonely.

He smiled and said: "Sure I do. Someday. When I find the right girl."

"You won't find any girl if you're not looking." Not like she knew, not like she'd ever been on a date in her life.

His expression changed, he looked older somehow, like he secretly had his entire future planned out, like worrying about this would never be an option. "When the time is right, I'll find her. I don't need to look."

Renesmee tried to lighten the mood. "I thought looking was the fun part," she said, and he laughed.

"I guess it is. For some people. Some people just want love. Uncomplicated, easy love."

It sounded a simple enough request, but the way he said made her heart melt. Oh, how much she wanted that for him, too.

"Come on," he said, and he slung his arm around her shoulder. They started walking along the sand at a leisurely pace, the sun just beginning to set above them. She knew she'd have to go home soon. But Jacob didn't usually talk about this kind of stuff with her, he didn't usually open up about these things. She couldn't let the moment go.

They were silent for a long while, or so it seemed, both lost in different thoughts. He kept his arm around her.

She slowed suddenly, gathered enough courage to ask what had been pestering away at her for years but seemed pivotal now.

"Jake, have you never dated, then? Never had any girlfriends or anything like that? Not even when you were young?"

To his credit, he didn't hesitate before answering. "Not really. I mean, I guess I did when I was younger. But nothing serious."

She pondered that a moment. Animals hooted and croaked and shuffled in the sand all around them. They could hear Quil, Seth and the girls playing in the sand. How quickly the afternoon had changed.

"You've never been in love?" When Jacob didn't answer she immediately backtracked. "God, I'm sorry. That's none of my business. You don't have to answer that."

"No, no," he said quickly. "I love talking to you. You can ask me anything, Ness. I'm just . . . thinking about my answer." It took him a little while, but he eventually concluded with: "Yeah. I guess I was in love once."

Why did that make her so sad?

"What happened?" she heard herself ask.

He made a funny noise in his throat. "It – uh – didn't work out. She was in love with someone else, so . . ."

"Oh." Silence. "I'm sorry, Jake." The thought was preposterous to her – who could possibly choose someone else over Jacob? Jacob who was kind and protective and selfless and witty and handsome and the most wonderful man she knew.

"Don't be," he told her. "I'm happier now than I've ever been before. There's no fun in loving someone who doesn't love you back." And didn't she know it.

"And, Nessie," he said, and pulled them to a stop. "You can always ask me about . . . well, anything. About girlfriends or—" he cast around for words "—boyfriends or anything that's on your mind."

"I know." She'd always known. Jacob was her best friend and she would trust him with everything her soul could bare.

"Then talk to me. About everything. Anything. All the time, okay?"

Her voice was without a drop of hesitation of dishonesty when she promised. "Okay."

"One more thing," he said. They started back towards the car. "There's a bonfire coming up. It's a real important one." He took four steps in the sand. "Would you come with me, Nessie?"

Renesmee had been to dozens of Quileute bonfires before. Too many to recall. So why did this feel different to her?

She took five steps before answering. "Of course I will." Two steps. "When is it?"

Seven steps. "Tomorrow"

"I'm sure it's fine. I'll just check with my parents."

"And, Nessie?" he said again. "Remember that necklace I gave you? For your second birthday? Would you bring it with you?" If he looked nervous before, he was positively petrified now.

"Sure." Six steps. "Why?"

"It's a surprise."

"Oh." Nessie made a face. "More surprises. Yippee."

"Always so impatient," he said as they arrived back at the car.

"I'm an in-the-moment kind of girl," she grumbled, but her voice was lost in the heaving of sea-salted wind. Jacob laughed and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Jacob kissed her rarely, and she unconsciously treasured each one.

"It'll be worth it, Ness. Trust me."

Of course it would be worth it. Of that she had no doubt. Every moment she spent with Jacob was worth it.

.

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* * *

><p><strong>COMING UP . . .<strong>

Seth turned to Jacob immediately, expectantly. "So . . . did I hear right? Did you ask Nessie to The Bonfire?"

Jake smiled a small, nervous smile. "Yeah."

"I thought you were going to wait until she was older?" Quil asked, alternating his gaze between his friend and his imprint every few seconds.

"So did I. It just sort of . . . came out."

Seth leaned forward, whispering quietly. "Are you really going to tell her then? About imprinting?"

Jacob took a deep breath, so deep it emptied his lungs, and released it slowly. "I guess so," he said, like he was convincing himself more than anything. "Yeah. I am. I'm gonna tell her." He looked at the water, smiled again, and said again, "I'm going to tell her."


	5. The Bonfire of the Quileutes

**Chapter V: The Bonfire of the Quileutes**

"_The flames of the luau bonfire burned brightly. Sparks flew into the sky and disappeared before they reached the stars above. Near the horizon, the moon was large and round and flawless as porcelain." _

—Victoria Kahler, Capturing the Sunset

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Quil watched from the water as Jacob and Renesmee climbed back into the car and drove away. Jake was driving, he noticed, and he didn't blame them. Nessie looked shaky as hell behind the wheel. Especially for a Cullen.

She waved down to them before leaving, and they all waved back.

He spared a glance for Seth, who returned it. Smiling. Grinning. Ecstatic. Jacob had asked her. It took him six years, but he was finally taking her to The Bonfire.

"Quil!" Clare called, annoyed. It was getting late, and about time he was getting her home.

"What, Clare Bear?" Her curfew had been extended, however slightly, because she was almost ten. And didn't she love to tell everyone. "I'm ten next week, Quil!" she'd been saying all day. "A proper grown up!"

She, of course, was not a grown up. How horrible a situation would that be? He didn't envy Jacob there . . .

"I _said_, let's play one more game before you take me home," Clare said.

It didn't take long for Jacob to drop Nessie home, and he arrived back at the beach in the middle of the most exciting game of tag ever played.

"Uncle Jake!" she screamed when she saw him, and ran to give him a hug.

"Clare!" he said, spinning her in a circle. She was getting big, but Jacob was still a giant, so he perched her on his hip. "Hey, Lisa." Clare jumped down, almost instantly, too old for such things, and ran straight for the water.

"Don't get wet, Clare, it's too late!" Quil yelled after her. "Don't go too close—"

"I'll watch her," Lisa offered, and followed the child to the water.

Seth turned to Jacob immediately, expectantly. "So . . . did I hear right? Did you ask Nessie to The Bonfire?"

Jake smiled a small, nervous smile. "Yeah."

"I thought you were going to wait until she was older?" Quil asked, alternating his gaze between his friend and his imprint every few seconds.

"So did I. It just sort of . . . came out."

Seth leaned forward, whispering quietly. "Are you really going to tell her then? About imprinting?"

Jacob took a deep breath, so deep it emptied his lungs, and released it slowly. "I guess so," he said, like he was convincing himself more than anything. "Yeah. I am. I'm gonna tell her." He looked at the water, smiled again, and said again, "I'm going to tell her."

"This is great! So we can finally do the blessing thing? With the necklaces?" Quil asked.

The Quileutes had an old ritual whereby the wolves of the pack and their imprints all gathered around a bonfire and blessed something of significance. They tried to do this last year, but Jacob had chickened out. "Nessie's just too young," he'd said. And you can't do the blessing without your alpha.

But they were set to do it this year, and Jacob was on board.

"You're really going do it with Clare?" he asked Quil. Seth had wandered down to the water; he didn't have an imprint but he had Lisa.

"Yeah," Quil told him. "I mean, I'm not going to tell her anything, but I'll do the blessing."

Jacob racked his fingers through his hair. "When will you tell her?" Their situations were very different, Clare was human and not the daughter of his first love, but they were both young.

Quil looked down to the water, to where Clare was playing. She was slowing a little, getting tired. "I don't know. When she's old enough to understand? She's still a baby, really; I don't have to worry about it yet."

They listened to the ocean for a moment. "Am I doing the right thing by telling her?" Jacob asked his oldest friend.

Quil nodded regretfully. "She deserves to know, Jake. That doesn't mean anything has to happen right away," he clarified when Jacob looked alarmed. "She's still young. But she deserves to know."

Jacob nodded back at him. The plan was set—in truth, it had been set for years. He'd bring her to the bonfire and let her hear the story of the Third Wife from Old Quil. Then he could explain afterwards, and everything would be fine.

He was terrified of what would happen: that she might look at him in revulsion and run away and refuse to see him again. The thought made his chest ache, and he almost changed his mind right there. But Quil's words were echoing in his head.

_"She deserves to know, Jake. She deserves to know."_

* * *

><p>When Renesmee got home that evening, she watched from the cottage door as Jacob drove away. She waved at the back of the car, unable to hold in the smile that took hold. When he had gone, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her parents weren't home yet, but they were on their way, so she had only a minute to digest everything Jacob had said to her today.<p>

A bit overwhelmed, she dropped into a chair in the kitchen. When Jacob had suggested driving lessons this afternoon, she had no idea they would end up having such a discussion.

_And the things he had said!_

About not dating and not searching for girls and knowing that he would just find his sole-mate when he needed to. It was sweet and romantic and . . . so different from her normal Jacob.

She heard her parents' distant voices and so thought of other, safer things that happened this evening, of the bonfire. She got up and went to the sink to get a drink, and that is where her mother found her.

"Hey, Renesmee," her mother said. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Yeah, I did." She took a sip. "Where's Dad?"

Bella's lips twitched in an almost-smirk. "Gone to get the Volvo."

"Oh." She evaluated her mother, the mood she was in. She seemed pretty happy, considering this morning's events, so Nessie took a shot. "Mom, Jake invited me to this bonfire tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Some Quileute tradition. " She'd barely gotten that out of him on the way home; he was being pretty cryptic about the whole thing.

"I'm sure it's fine, Nessie."

She smiled from cheek to cheek and gave her mother a hug. "Thanks."

That night, lying in bed, Renesmee got very little sleep. She didn't know if it was excitement for the morning, or the stress of not thinking about what Jacob had said to her, or the embarrassment of having to face Emmett after crashing the Volvo. Probably a combination of all three.

But, as Nessie tossed and turned, a wolf howled in the distance, and Renesmee found herself drifting into a light but content slumber.

.

Jacob had arranged to collect her the next afternoon at the cottage and was, as he always is, exactly on time. The sun was high in the sky, which in itself was a rarity, but the breeze from the coast kept the temperature from rising to anything remotely warm.

As soon as Nessie heard his car, she ran out to meet him. He was climbing out and, as he caught sight of her, a beautiful smile graced his face.

"Hello," he said, and she said it back. "Are you ready?" he asked, sounding like he wasn't quite ready himself.

"Of course," she said. "Bonfires are always fun."

He smiled again.

Behind them, the cottage door opened and Nessie's parents emerged. Edward's arm was draped casually around Bella's waist and they looked like they always looked—desperately in love. In sync with each other to a millisecond, enveloped in each other's presence. Two pieces of a whole.

"Have you got everything?" her mother asked. "A sweatshirt? Your phone?"

Renesmee nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Alright," Bella said, and she came forward to hug her. "You have fun tonight, okay?"

"Okay," Nessie said to her mother's neck. When they pulled back, she was surprised to see her mom looked sad. There was an unrecognisable winter in her eyes. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Bella said. "You're just getting so grown up." She glanced over Nessie's shoulder at Jacob, and the two shared a strange look. Bella leaned in and kissed her daughter once more on the forehead before releasing her.

As Renesmee stepped back, her father appeared at her side and hugged her, too. "Enjoy yourself, darling," he said.

"I will," she told him, but she didn't miss that, in the corner of her eye, Jacob and Bella were embracing as well. She whispered something immortally fast that Nessie couldn't hear, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Renesmee looked back to her dad and raised her eyebrow. _What's all that about?_ the gesture asked. Edward shrugged entirely too innocently and kissed her once more.

Jacob and her mother whispered for another moment, and then broke apart. "You good to go, Ness?" he asked.

Ever the gentleman, Jacob came around to the passenger side and opened the door. As Renesmee climbed in, she waved goodbye to her parents. Bella was wearing that same sad look of apprehension, watching Nessie leave as though she'd never see her again.

"What's wrong with my mom?" she asked, as soon as they were safely out of hearing range.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she said. "She looked upset or something."

Jacob took a sharp corner; he was just as reckless a driver as her parents were. Though she couldn't say much. "I guess," he said evasively. "I didn't really notice." He seemed very distracted.

"How could you not notice? You were hugging her. And _what_ was that about?" Jacob opened his mouth confusedly, so Nessie clarified: "The hugging, I mean. Why is everyone so emotional?"

He shrugged in a _they're-your-family_ kind of way. Renesmee wasn't quite convinced.

"So what's going on tonight?"

Jacob was watching the road. His fingers flexed over the steering wheel. She noticed just how nervous he looked. "A bonfire," he said. "On the Second Beach cliffs."

"Like the summer bonfire?" she asked.

"_Kind of_ like the summer one, I guess. This one's a bit different, though."

"Why?" she asked. "How's this one different?"

"Well, I guess that's the surprise bit."

Renesmee didn't really care what it was they were doing so long as they were doing it together. She was thrilled to be spending the night with him. "Sounds like fun."

Jacob looked at her properly then, and a spark of excitement ignited in his eyes. "It will be."

* * *

><p>Any journey, regardless of the distance, never seemed long when she was with Jacob. They arrived at Second Beach just as the sun was beginning to set. He took her hand and they set off along the sand at a leisurely pace. In the distance, Nessie could see the blaze of a bonfire reaching for the dusky twilight sky.<p>

She was never nervous at these things, even though she wasn't a Quileute and so technically didn't belong. She belonged with Jacob and that always seemed enough.

There was a big group of people already there, laughing and joking and dancing around the orange flames. Sam and Emily, Paul and Rachael. Jacob's Dad, Billy, and his friends Seth, Embry, and Quil. Sam's pack was there, too, and the old tribal elders. Sue Clearwater, and Jared with his wife, Kim.

The smell of freshly cooked meat was so potent in the air she could hardly make out the scent of werewolf.

Billy saw her instantly. His wheelchair was stationed at what seemed like the natural head of the circle. Beside him on a folding lawn chair, looking brittle as ever, was Quil's ancient, white-haired grandfather, Old Quil.

"Hey, Nessie," Billy said as they reached him. "I'm so happy Jake decided to bring you tonight." His words were heavy, like she was missing the real meaning in them.

"So am I," Nessie said, trying so replicate his sincerity. He smiled oddly at her, the way Jacob had been, like she was on the outside of an inside joke.

She loved Billy dearly; he was so much like a grandfather to her. He had taught her to speak Quileute when she was young; he had always looked after her. Old Quil, on the other hand, she hardly knew, and he was watching her strangely.

"Renesmee Cullen?" he said, his voice like wisps of smoke. "Is that really you? Little Nessie Cullen?"

"Yep," Jacob said behind her. "Except she's not so little anymore."

"I'll say. You're practically a woman." He appraised her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. She felt Jacob step closer behind her. "Just look at how much you've grown."

She smiled, but it was strained. "I know – I can't help it."

"Nor should you." He finally took his eyes away. "Sorry – you're just so grown up. And _pretty_."

Jacob put his hands on her shoulders and she subconsciously reached back to hold one of his wrists.

Old Quil looked up to him as though he had just remembered his presence. "Is she finally old enough then? You going to let her hear the stories? Learn the truth?"

"That's the plan," Jacob said curtly.

"What stories?" Renesmee asked. She looked over her shoulder at Jacob. "What truth?"

He looked slightly annoyed, but he smiled at her. "You've heard them all before – you know, the spirit walkers and Taha Aki." That didn't seem to be what Old Quil was talking about. "Come on." He took her hand in his and gave it a tug. "Let's go say hi."

Renesmee waved goodbye as Jacob towed her away from his father and over to his friends by the fireside.

Her head was bursting with questions now. What stories was Old Quil talking about? What did he mean by, 'now that she's old enough'? Why was Jacob—and her parents, for that matter—acting so weird?

She was so preoccupied in thought she barely registered Quil and Seth and Embry, who all jumped up to give her their seat on the log.

"Jacob," she said, pulling him back to her. "What was he talking about?"

"Nothing, Ness. Come on, let's sit—"

"It wasn't _nothing_." She widened her eyes, offended he considered her so imprudent as to let it go that easily. "Tell me."

"I will." He frowned guiltily. "I'm going to tell you."

She waited. He didn't say anything else. "When?"

"Later. That's why I brought you, to tell you . . . new stories."

She evaluated his pleading eyes, imploring her to let it go, just for now. And she was ridiculously flippant when it came to anything Jacob wanted – especially when he used _those_ eyes. "Fine. But, Jacob, you have to promise to tell me."

"I will."

"Promise?"

He smiled a little then, and placed his hand on his chest. "Cross my heart."

"And hope to die?"

"Stick a needle in my eye." His face was so sincere, she burst into laughter right there.

"Excited, Ness?" Quil asked her, across the fire.

"Yeah," she told him, although she was beginning to wonder what exactly it was she was supposed to be excited for.

Clare sat on his lap, full of energy and laughter. "Nessie," she said immediately upon her arrival. "Nessie! Nessie! I'm ten next week. Did you know?"

"I did." She sat down, in between Quil and Embry.

"Ness, I'll be back in two secs," Jacob told her, and he headed back down the sand, to his father and Old Quil.

Renesmee turned back to Clare and smiled. She recalled when they used to be friends, she and Clare. It had been years ago, when Nessie was only one, but she remembered well the excitement when Jacob had brought a friend for her to play with. A friend who was _her age_.

She outgrew Clare in months, though, both physically and mentally. Their friendship didn't get to last that long.

"Are you going to have a party?" she asked, and the child's eyes lit up.

"A _huge_ party. Mommy's getting a bouncing castle and everything. Isn't she, Quil?"

Quil grinned exceptionally wide. "She sure is. It's not every day you turn ten, you know."

Jacob trooped back up the sand and joined them. "Sorry, guys." There was no space left on the logs, and Nessie was about the squash up for him when he sank into the sand. He leaned in against her knees, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered with the wings of eagles.

So they sat in a circle on logs, around the open fire, next to Jacob's friends who had really come to be her friends, too, over the years. And they told stories and jokes and recounted memories that Nessie was sure happened long before she was born. Other than a few teasing complaints—mostly from Jared—about keeping the bloodsucker stench downwind, the evening was turning out to be wonderful.

It didn't take long before mountains of food were presented. Gigantic bowls filled with week's worth of food were passed around the circle. Jacob knew exactly how she liked her hotdogs toasted, so she let him do it for her.

Renesmee was starting her second hotdog when she noticed how empty it was getting around her. "Where's everyone gone?" she asked Jacob, who was now sitting beside her.

"They're around," he answered. "They'll be back later, I'm sure. This part is kind of invite-only."

"Oh?" She looked around her. Sam was at the top of the circle now, Emily at his side. Then, taking her eyes around those remaining, there was Quil and Clare, Jared and Kim, Brady and Hazel, Paul and Rachel, and she and Jacob. It finished with Jacob, she noticed. The circle started with Sam and ended with Jake.

He was head of the circle, too. He and Sam.

A strange spark of pride flared through her. But then she noticed something else. Everyone was in twos. And most of the twos were married. She saw Quil and Clare across from her, though, and she relaxed.

"What's happening?" she asked, but Jacob didn't answer. Instead, he quietly, modestly, handed her a small leather bag.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Open it."

She smiled, took the pouch from him and let it sit in the centre of her palm. She considered the material and the ribbon and its weight and shape before she decided to slide it open. She tipped out the contents, and into her hand fell a small, wooden charm. It was the shape of a moon and sun, the former shadowing the latter, but they were cut in half.

"Jake," she whispered. Nessie had seen enough of Jacob's work to recognise this as his own. "Jake, it's so beautiful."

"Did you bring the necklace?" he asked, and Nessie nodded and fished the Quileute-woven choker from her pocket. He'd given her that for her second birthday, a mesh of coloured string laced together. Taking it, he slid the charm onto the string and handed it back to her.

The wooden moon and sun sat perfectly on the thread, and the thread fit perfectly in her hands.

"Thank you." She had never been so earnest in her life. "Will you tie it?" Jacob smiled in that awkward-but-bashful way that he does and nodded. She handed it back to him turned around on the log.

Every molecule of her body felt Jacob's searing finger tips at her neck as he brushed aside her hair. He fastened it quickly and there was a moment of hesitation in his hands. They rested there, on her shoulders, for a second. And then they were gone. When she turned back around, they were sitting by his sides.

"Thank you," she said again.

"My pleasure," he whispered. Half a heartbeat later, he added nervously: "This is so corny, but I have the other half." He reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a plain black thread. Hanging from it was half a moon and sun. He leaned forward and held his to hers, and she swore her heart stopped beating when they connected to form a whole.

Renesmee didn't know what to say to him. Are there really words for such a thing?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rachel, Jacob's sister, and she had a necklace, too. Hers was a fish, mid leap, and was also in half. Paul had the other half, hanging proudly from his neck. She realised everyone still sitting in the circle had a necklace, and each was a half and their partner had the whole.

It was beautiful and symbolic and her heart swelled to twice its normal size.

Everyone had a partner.

Jacob had chosen _her_ to be his.

She didn't care what his reasons were: friendship, or otherwise. She just cared that he loved her enough to choose her. When she looked back to him, she knew her eyes were betraying her emotions, but she didn't mind.

"I had to wait until now to give it to you," he told her, "because it's like a tradition. All the guys in the pack do it." It was beginning to grow quiet around them, and he quickly added: "We're doing a blessing. Some old Quileute tribal thing our ancestors did."

There was silence.

Everyone was waiting to begin.

She looked at Sam. But Sam was looking at Jacob. Everyone was looking at Jacob. And then it hit her: Jacob was head of the pack, leader of the tribe. So she looked at Jacob, too.

And Jacob was looking at her.

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* * *

><p>COMING UP . . .<p>

"The story of our origin is equal to only _one_ other story," Old Quil said, and his voice held a different kind of power than Billy's. It was strong and enticing, yes, but it was also mysterious and enigmatic. "Only _one_ other story holds equal importance. Only _one_ other has held as strongly thought the generations."

Old Quil paused and looked up—

—straight at Renesmee—

And for some reason, her breath caught in her throat.

"And that is the story of the Third Wife."


	6. Tribal Legends and Love Declarations

**Chapter VI: Tribal Legends and Love Declarations**

"_Legends are best left as legends and attempts to make them real are rarely successful." _

—Michael Moorcock, Elric of Melniboné

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Renesmee guessed she always knew she loved Jacob. At first, it was just as her older brother, her goofy uncle, her permanent babysitter. He looked after her when she was small. He was kind of a parent. Her feelings didn't have a name or a label, but they didn't need one. They were just there, in the back of everything, all the time.

When she got a little older, a little wiser, when she discovered what love was, or at least what it was meant to be, she began to see him differently. She started to like how he held her hand and opened doors for her and climbed in her window to say goodnight. She started to like _him_.

She started to wonder _maybe_ . . .

And soon, all thoughts of love and Jacob were so irrevocably woven together that she couldn't separate them. Thoughts of Jacob just came with thoughts of love. It had been like that forever, but now she understood it.

And she didn't love him like a brother anymore.

She loved him as naturally as her lungs drew breath. As certainly as joy was to laughter, and hurt was to tears. As irreversibly as life was of living, and dying was of death.

Sometimes she thought she saw it there in him, in his eyes, too. Sometimes, he'd look at her and she'd be convinced that he'd never look away, that they would stay that way – forever in a suspended moment of happiness.

But they didn't. And they never would.

Jacob would never see her that way.

He was her friend, despite all of the trouble she knew it had caused him with his pack. He was her friend. That could be enough for her. That _would_ be enough for her. A little of Jacob was better than no Jacob at all.

So she hid her love beneath their mountain of friendship. It was easy most of the time. Everything with Jacob was easy.

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..

Jacob cleared his throat. He sat a little taller, a little straighter, and when he spoke, his words reverberated across the flames. He didn't have much to say, just a small Quileute prayer, but his voice was filled with power and leadership and might and valour. It was the voice of the alpha, the voice his friends laughingly said frightened them when he was angry.

He spoke in Old Quileute, but Renesmee understood it perfectly. She remembered when she was just two or three, and how Billy had taught her to speak it, and how for weeks afterward she spoke exclusively in Quileute. That rendered conversation with most of her family impossible, but it was worth it to have her own secret language through which only she and Jacob could communicate.

It was a bubble of intimacy, speaking in his tongue and knowing only he could understand her words.

She was fluent now, and recognised each word that passed Jacob's lips. He was blessing the necklaces and their owners, asking for Taha Aki's guidance and protection.

At some point, Jacob's hand had slid down her arm to her wrist, and he took her hand.

He finished and Sam picked up with his own rhythm and lilt.

Jacob had been watching her the entire time, but only now that he'd stopped speaking did she fell like he really saw her. She smiled, as brightly and as earnestly as she could, a whole bouquet of emotions blooming in her chest.

She leaned into his side, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, and she listened in rapture as Sam finished.

There was nothing very special about the blessing itself; it was the togetherness of the tribe and the closeness of Jacob that had her heart palpitating. When Sam finished, there was silence. Everyone stayed quiet, in their respective pairs, and after a while conversation started up again.

"So," Jacob said, rather nervously. "What do you think?"

"Jake." She gave his hand a squeeze. "That was just . . . so amazing." She couldn't reason in words how amazing. "Thank you so much . . . for sharing that with me," she said. _Thank you for choosing me_, she is what she secretly meant.

He squeezed her hand back. "Thank you for coming," he replied, and she wanted his thank you to secretly mean things as well. She wanted it to mean _thank you for choosing me, too_, and _thank you for being my other half_.

But it was Jacob. He was mostly likely just thanking her for coming.

Sam stood up, holding Emily's hand, and called out to the group: "Will we take this down the beach?" There a was a shout of approval.

"Where are they going?" Renesmee asked, as the couples started after Sam down the sand.

Jacob watched them leave but made no move. "To continue the party."

Nessie leaned further into his warm side. "Don't we get to party?" she asked, only slightly kidding because, honestly, the idea intrigued her.

"I thought you might like to hear the stories first?" He said it like a question.

"Sure, sure." She felt so content in that moment. Using his words, wrapped in his arms, wearing his necklace. Surely such bliss couldn't last.

Other people were beginning to trickle back to the circle. Seth came first, and she watched as he playfully lifted Lisa over a log, sweeping her knees up and setting her down gently a few seats away.

Something dawned on her. "I thought the blessing was a pack thing?"

"It was." His fingers were absently twirling the charm on his thread.

Nessie's brow knitted in confusion. "Then why wasn't Seth here? Or Embry? Or any of the others?"

Jacob sat up straight again, like the strings in his back had been pulled taut. He said, "That's kind of part of what I have to tell you."

Renesmee considered this. "And when will you be doing that?"

The rest of the group were returning; Sue Clearwater was helping Billy's wheelchair along the sand, and Old Quil was hot in their pursuit.

"Soon," Jake said. "Real soon, by the looks of it."

Billy and Old Quil settled by the fireside, and the circle subconsciously turned to face them. Jacob may be the pack leader, but the tribal chiefs out ranked him.

Nessie had been to enough bonfires to recognise what was happening now: The Quileute legends. Everyone was settling down, readying themselves to listen.

Suddenly an incredible quiet spread over the group like influenza, and Nessie could ask no more questions. Everyone leaned forwards, listening, their attention captured by Billy Black. Only when in the telling of a Quileute story did Renesmee recognise the ring of majesty that his voice held, and she understood where Jacob had gotten his from.

"The Quileutes have been a small people from the beginning," he said, and the entire group took a collected breath of anticipation. "And we are a small people still, but we have never disappeared. This is because there has always been magic in our blood. It wasn't always the magic of shape-shifting—that came later. First we were spirit walkers."

Billy's words wove themselves into a scene in front of her. Soon, Nessie could see was Taha Aki. She watched him speak to the wolf, asking to share his body, to become a spirit walker. She watched him and his tribe's men run through the forest, their bodies sinuously melting into the huge powerful form of the wolf.

It was such a beautiful story, and no less entertaining even though she'd heard it so many times before. But she couldn't get _into it_ like usual. She couldn't climb inside and live and run and breathe with the wolves. Her head was too full of questions and it was distracting her.

When Billy stopped speaking and the tale was over, a collective sigh filled the air. Renesmee glanced at Jacob, who was watching her. The last question she asked still hung in the air between them. She could feel it, and she knew Jacob could, too.

Collected mummers were beginning to fill the air, but they were immediately stilted when Old Quil cleared his throat. Nessie looked back to the head of the circle curiously: she'd been to several Quileute bonfires, but Old Quil didn't usually attend. He'd never told a story before. Is this what he had been talking about?

"The story of our origin is equal to only _one_ other story," he said, and his voice held a different kind of power than Billy's. It was strong and enticing, yes, but it was also mysterious and enigmatic. "Only _one_ other story holds equal importance. Only _one_ other has held as strongly throughout the generations."

Old Quil paused and looked up—

—straight at Renesmee—

And for some reason, her breath caught in her throat.

"And that is the story of the Third Wife."

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..

"Now, the tale of the Third Wife is as old and as honoured as the tale of our founding, for it shows how the power of love can transform a person and give them strength they never knew existed."

Suddenly, Renesmee knew him so well she could actually feel it stirring in him, Jacob lit up in panic. She glanced at him questioningly, sitting at her side, her hand still in his.

Beside him, she noticed, Seth was watching her avidly. Nessie smiled at him, wondering what he wanted, when she noticed that Quil was watching her, too. Taking her gaze around the circle, she realised every pair of eyes were focused on _her_.

No one's eyes were as heavy as Jacob's, however, and his were currently full of alarm. He gave the hand he was holding a squeeze and tried to stand up. "I've changed my mind. Let's get out of here," he whispered to her, and his voice was a crack in the glass of silence.

"What? No, I want to hear," she told him, and leaned forward in anticipation.

"The power of the wolf," Old Quil began, "gave Taha Aki the life span of many men. He saw his first two wives, whom he loved dearly, die of old age. He saw his many children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren grow old and finally pass away. But Taha Aki stayed young with the power of the wolf."

"Ness," Jacob whispered, his voice wild with panic. "Come on—let's go for a walk. The guys are just down the beach—"

"I'm listening!" she whispered back at him. When she turned around, she avoided the looks she knew were fixed on her.

"Years after the death of his second wife," Old Quil continued, "many women desired him for his braveness and strength, but Taha Aki had already met the woman who would become his third wife, and the love he felt for her was greater than anything he had ever experienced in his long life."

Renesmee became all of a sudden so attached to Old Quil's story. Something about it was catching her, tugging on her heart. Her questions drifted away and disintegrated into nothingness; Jacob's hand pulling hers became weightless.

"Nessie, _please_ . . ."

"Like the push and pull of the tides, the third wife drew him into an eternal dance, and suddenly the whole world was shadow and she was his only light. The very instant he saw her, their souls entwined and he was hers forever."

Renesmee felt her lips move with the story she'd never heard before. Each word was being engraved on her heart. The Third Wife and her lover became the most important people she had ever known.

"Their bond was unlike any other, immeasurable to those around them. The power of the imprint—"

"_Okay_," Jacob said over Old Quil, and he stood up, pulling her with him.

"Jacob!" she protested, aware everyone was looking at them.

"Nessie—come for a walk with me," he whispered to her, and started pulling her down the beach.

"Jacob, what are you doing? Stop it," she said, trying to keep her voice down, but also knowing it was useless – everyone would hear anyway.

"Please, Nessie. Please." He didn't really wait for an answer. Nessie let him pull her to the water, away from the fire and the story and his friends.

But before she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Billy, at the head of the circle. He didn't look annoyed, like she would have presumed he'd have been at the interruption, but rather . . . disappointed? He was frowning at something she couldn't discern. He held her gaze until she rounded the corner and they were separated.

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"What's wrong with you?" she hissed when they were far enough away from the fire no one would hear them. She tugged her hand away, infuriated, but her fingers had been in his so long that the sudden cold snapped at them harshly.

His eyes saddened at that, following her as she stepped back from him. "I'm sorry, Nessie – I'm sorry."

"What's going on, Jake?"

"Nothing. I just – I want to go to that party after all."

"What – right now? It couldn't have waited until the end of the story?" She sounded wounded, like Jacob had torn the story from her skin. That's certainly what it felt like.

"No." Jacob's eyes were remorseful and his hand was hesitant when he reached it out again for her.

She looked at his hand, hovering in the air between them, and then she looked at Jacob with his pleading deep brown eyes. But she was in no mood for handholding. She was angry.

"Let's go back." She started to walk past him, but he caught her arm.

"Ness, come on—"

"_You_ come on. I want to go back and hear that story." Renesmee didn't know what was wrong with her. So they left the bonfire early? It was no big deal.

Except it _was_. Something about that story was alluring to her, even from up the beach she felt a pull to it. And she just couldn't let it go.

They'd travelled further than she'd thought from the bonfire—she could no longer hear the talk of the revellers. But in the not-so-far distance she could hear music and laughter, and she supposed it was the group which had left before.

"You've heard them a hundred times—" he started to say.

"Not that one I haven't." He must have heard the longing in her voice. He must have. It was as blatant as if she'd taken his hand and _shown_ him.

"Sorry – I just – I wanted." He took a breath. "There's so much I need to tell you, and I have to do it right. It's important I tell you . . . the right way." He smiled his most glorious Jacoby smile. "I'm nervous."

And just like that the anger drained from her, like someone had pierced a hole directly in her melancholy. "Tell me what?" she asked. "Jacob? Tell me what?"

He took a breath. Exhaled it. "Nessie, you have to promise you'll let me finish talking before you react? Hear me out?"

Renesmee nodded like she understood even though she didn't. Because it was _there_ again. This bizarre bubbling in her chest that told her it was okay, that everything was okay. That this weird hand-holding, hugging, sneak-in-your-window-at-the-dead-of-night relationship she shared with Jacob was _okay_.

"I'll hear you out," she promised.

"I've been thinking for weeks how to say this without sounding . . . cheesy? Overbearing? I don't know, stupid?" He shook his head. "There's this thing, Nessie, this thing about you and me."

You and me. _You and me you and me you and me._

"And I know it will probably sound crazy and I won't make any sense, but I don't know any other way, and I can't _not tell you_ any longer."

"Whatever it is," she said, her voice drifting on the wind, "just tell me."

"Okay." He took another breath, like he was preparing to dive head first into oblivion. "But remember you still matter to me _without_ this. I'd still love you _without_ this. It's a—"

"Love me?" A quiet interruption.

Jacob paused, said "Yes. Love you," and tried to continue whatever monologue he had prepared, but he look on Nessie's face stopped him.

"You _love_ me?" she asked, aware of how ridiculous she sounded but too far past caring.

Jacob shook his head, losing the place in his speech. "Of course I love you."

"I. . ." she started but words failed her. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how long she'd loved him, how much she longed for him. But no words in the world were enough. And here he was, telling her that he loved her, too.

It was too much. Too much like heaven to ever be real.

Jacob tried to speak again, but she was too overwhelmed. "Just give me a second."

He watched her with uncertainty. "Are you okay?"

"I . . . yes." She was okay. So very, very okay. Because Jacob was saying he loved her. And he had given her half his moon and sun. And he had chosen her. Things had never been so okay in her life.

"I love you," she said, hardly believing her bravery. "I've always loved you, Jake." She reached up to touch his face, but he saw her coming and took a large step back.

"Nessie," he said, frowning.

She couldn't see the signs, couldn't see his hesitance, couldn't see anything through the haze of happiness clouding her eyes.

Another step put her right up against him, close enough that he could smell her. For someone who lived in a house of stinking vampires, she somehow managed to smell like sunshine and apples and sweet grass.

"I have _always_ loved you," she said again.

And before he could say anything further, she reached up and did something she had only thought of in her wildest and most inconceivable dreams.

She kissed him.

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* * *

><p>COMING UP . . .<p>

Rosalie flashed to her side in an instant, wrapped her up in a cold, hard embrace. "You're back early," she said, and then she leaned back, looking at Nessie expectantly. "How was it?" She asked like she already knew the answer. It seemed that everybody but Nessie knew what had been planned for the night.

"Where's my mom?" Renesmee said, her voice rough, like each syllable scratched her throat.

Rosalie's face hardened. "What did he do?"

"Aunt Rose . . ."

"So help me God, Nessie, what did he do?"


	7. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

**Chapter VII: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not**

"_Sometimes the heart does what it wants, without asking the mind."_

—Walt Whitman

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They were kissing. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, Renesmee couldn't believe this. But it was happening. Somehow, it was real.

Jacob didn't reciprocate for a moment. He tensed. He resisted. He almost pulled his head back.

Almost.

But then Nessie felt his body loosen and he shrank to meet her. He dipped his head, and she stood on her toes, and when their lips touched again, she became undone. Her limbs disconnected, her bones unknotted, she melted; and she wanted him to melt, too. She wanted him to melt like butter on toast, and to absorb him and walk around for the rest of her days with him encased in her skin.

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..

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He gave into temptation far too soon. He should have kept his distance, should have said no, should never have kissed her back.

But she was warm, so much warmer than someone half-vampire should ever have been. And she was slender and supple and deceptively strong. And she felt so good against him, fitted so perfectly.

He couldn't think straight, and when she sighed he reacted like a parched man falling into water, like a man who hadn't kissed in almost a decade. He let his hands sit on her shoulders, slide down her back, and he pulled her up against his chest.

He reacted how he wanted to and not how he should have and now he was a dead man and these would be his final breaths.

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..

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She kept her hands by her sides, completely ignorant of what to do with them until she remembered what they were good for and she reached for his cheek and bared her soul.

But as her slender fingers touched his skin, Jacob broke the kiss. They stared at one another, panting for breath, and it was really getting cold now so each exhaled gasp was like a puff of dragon smoke around their faces.

He leaned back. Shook his head. Gasped, "Oh, God."

She was shy then, something she couldn't recall ever being before, and was bashful when she looked up at him.

"Jake," she started—

"No." He stepped back from her. "I'm sorry." His voice was made of steal. He was backing away from her. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she tried, but he was shaking his head.

"I should never have done that. God, I'm sorry."

She stepped after him, but her confidence was weaning. "I don't understand. "Jacob, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he exclaimed. "That's the problem." He pushed his hands through his black hair. "Nothing feels wrong, Nessie. And it should. It really, really should."

"What are you talking about? Nothing should feel wrong. That was . . . amazi—"

"No." He shook his head. "It wasn't."

"Oh."

Realisation washed over her, like ice cold water freezing her skin. She loved him. Love-loved him. But he never said he love-loved her. And he was sorry he kissed her. And he was still backing away from her like she was something repulsive.

Her heart shrivelled up in her chest and fell to the pit of her stomach, like an out of season leaf. It wilted and died.

She knew he could never feel the same way, could never see her like that. She had been steeling herself for it, going over it her head again and again. _We can never be together._

She knew that.

She had always known that.

But she still wasn't prepared for how much it hurt.

"Let's go up to my car," he said after what felt like hours of silence, though it had probably only been seconds. "We can talk on the way home."

She waited for tears to come, because certainly her heart was weeping, but her eyes remained bone dry.

He said something else, something more placating, but she didn't hear it. She didn't see him reach for her and his hot touch made her leap back in shock.

"Nessie," he was saying, but she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear anything because—

Her heart was combusting—

And her insides were aflame—

Each heart beat was—

—Rupturing.

—Puncturing.

—Breaking.

And then—when her heart gave out—

She ran

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She flew back up the sand, slipping in its malleability, running straight for the forest that joined to Second Beach. She could hear Jacob calling to her, calling her to come back, and as he ripped out of his clothes and galloped after her on four paws.

She ran faster, no match for him, but as fast as she could until everything in her peripherals blurred together.

Jacob howled, a strangled sound, but eventually he fell back, slowed a bit, followed from a distance. He continued to follow until Nessie reached the Cullens' main house, and she couldn't hear him any longer.

Renesmee dashed up the porch steps and threw open the front door.

Rosalie flashed to her side in an instant, wrapped her up in a cold, hard embrace. "You're back early," she said, and then she leaned back, looking at Nessie expectantly. "How was it?" She asked like she already knew the answer. It seemed that everybody but Nessie knew what had been planned for the night.

"Where's my mom?" Renesmee said, her voice rough, like each syllable scratched her throat.

Rosalie's face hardened. "What did he do?"

"Aunt Rose . . ."

"So help me God, Nessie, what did he do?"

A single tear welled in her eye, but she refused to let it run down her cheek. "Please," she said. "Where is she?"

The blond vampire looked a bit upset, but said: "She's at the cottage." Nessie turned immediately for the door, and as it closed behind her, she heard Rosalie call for her to come back. The second person that night.

Renesmee ran full tilt home.

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Renesmee burst in the cottage door, and both her parents were waiting for her, probably having heard her coming a mile away. Edward's face quickly went from nervousness to confusion to anger, and she knew he was sorting through the jumble of bewilderment that remained of her thoughts.

She had held it together all night, but there, in the house she had grown up in, in front of the roaring fire, with the two people with whom she was closest (excluding one other), she unravelled. Years of tears welled in her eyes and poured down her cheeks.

They both dashed forward, but Bella reached her first. Nessie curled into her shoulder and wept. "Oh, Renesmee." Nessie clung to her mother, revelling in the coldness of her embrace, the contrast between this one and the one she was in not too long ago before she ruined everything. "Renesmee, what _happened_?" She tried to pull her back to look at her, but Nessie was welded to her side. "Are – are you hurt?"

Even if it had been possible to speak through the sobs, Nessie didn't think she would have.

She felt her father's cool hand on her back. "Renesmee?" His voice was positively edged with panic. "Darling, you _must_ tell us if you're hurt – if someone—"

"No," she cried. "No one – it was – _me_."

There was silence, and then her father whispered, "I'm not sure." Presumably, Bella had asked for a more comprehensible explanation, but it would be hard going to find any coherent thoughts in her head right now.

"It was me," she said again, and her voice sounded not so much breaking as already broken.

* * *

><p>Out of unparalleled respect for Quil's grandfather, the men waited until his story was finished before disappearing off to talk. Seth, Embry, Paul, Quil, Jared and Brady subtly wandered a bit down the beach. As soon as they were in relative privacy, they turned to each other let gush everything on their minds.<p>

SETH: "Wow. Well, that was a first."

EMBRY: "I don't believe he just pulled her away in the middle of the story!"

BRADY: "Old Quil shouldn't have told it. He knew Jake doesn't want her to know yet."

JARED: "_Doesn't want her to know yet?_ She's, like, sixteen in her little vampire years. She's old enough to know."

SETH: "Yeah, well, it's up to Jake to tell her."

QUIL: "But I thought he _was_ telling her? Isn't that why he brought her? So she could hear the story? He _asked_ my grandfather to tell it."

EMBRY: "He obviously changed his mind."

PAUL: "Maybe he chickened out."

BRADY: "But he shouldn't have made her leave in the middle—"

SETH: "—Cut him some slack, man."

EMBRY: "What else could he have done? Let her listen to it? She'd have picked it up straight away."

QUIL: "She was already picking it up. Didn't you see her face?"

SETH: "Yeah, it was just Emily's or Kim's."

QUIL: "Even Claire's."

PAUL: "Claire's ten?"

QUIL: "So? She's a kid, not stupid."

PAUL: "I'm not saying—"

BRADY: "I think Billy was laughing. He has no sympathy."

JARED: "Come on, I was laughing, too."

PAUL: "It _was_ kind of funny."

EMBRY: "Good to see Jake freaking out for once."

JARED: "He looked like he was gonna explode."

SETH: "So did Nessie."

BRADY: "I thought she was gonna hit him."

JARED: "Now that would have been funny."

EMBRY: "I'd have hit him."

BRADY: "No, you wouldn't."

There was a gust of sighs in the silence. They each took a moment to try and steer the conversation back to something a group of adults would be having.

QUIL: "At least she was there for the blessing."

SETH: "Yeah, how did that go?"

JARED: "Fine. Everything was going just fine until—"

EMBRY: "Give him a break, guys. It's hard for him."

JARED: "How would you know? You haven't imprinted."

EMBRY: "Neither has Seth."

SETH: "Hey!"

QUIL: "None of us imprinted on a half-vampire. Let's just . . . let's just leave him handle it himself, okay?"

There were nods of consent and, after a while, the group headed back to help clear up for the night. To anyone listening in, their conversation sounded ludicrous. But to someone in the know, it was easy to hear their concern for their friend and, possibly, the entrails of love concern leaves in its wake.

* * *

><p>Renesmee cried for what felt like an eternity, into her mother's shoulder, and then her father's chest. They didn't say much, just allowed her cry, get it all out, like a detox. A werewolf detox.<p>

She must have stopped eventually, and fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew she was waking up in a semi-dark bedroom. The bed was familiar, but not her own. It took her only a moment to recognise it as her parents'. It had been a while since the last time she'd woken up in this bed.

Her mother was sitting in the old rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom, a book on her lap. She flashed to her daughter in an instant and lay down on the mattress beside her. She smoothed her dark hair back and gave her a cool kiss on the forehead.

"All cried out?" she asked gently.

Nessie thought of everything that had happened that night, of Jacob talking to her, kissing her, _rejecting_ her. Something inside quailed—_my broken heart_, she thought—but no new tears came. Her body was far too empty to store fickle things like tears.

Renesmee nodded and sat up a bit, leaned on the headboard. "What time is it?" Her voice was uneven hand-stitches.

"Late," her mother said. "But sleep has never been a priority in this house." She pulled the quilt up around her daughter's shoulders. "Want to talk about it?"

"Surely Dad's worked it out already." Her thoughts must have been blaring like police sirens all night.

"I want to hear it from you. And your father nipped out." Bella smiled. "Your dreams must have been scaring him." Her smile drooped. "What happened, sweetheart?" There was silence a few moments longer, and she said one word: "Jacob."

Renesmee's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"What else could possibly make you cry like this?"

Her voice still wobbled. Like a girl on a tightrope. No balance and an impending gust of wind. "I – I did something terrible, Mom. Terrible. And now Jacob _hates_ me."

"Nessie—"

"You should have seen the way he looked at me – like – like I'd slapped him. And now he hates me."

"Nessie, I don't know what's happened tonight or how much Jacob's told you, but Jacob loves you every bit as much as your father and I do. He could never, _ever_ hate you."

"But he _does_. He couldn't wait to get away from me. I've ruined everything."

Bella pulled Nessie onto her chest, ran her fingers through her long hair soothingly. "No, Nessie, no. Maybe he's upset, but that won't last long. If only you knew, sweetheart, he could never stay mad at you."

In a moment of sheer madness, because she couldn't _bear_ to say it aloud, Renesmee placed her palm on her mother's pearly white cheek and showed her exactly what she'd done to alienate the most important person in the world from her.

Bella's eyes glazed over momentarily, and Nessie let her hand fall away.

Bella was, for once, speechless.

"I don't know what I was thinking . . ." she said, for want something to break the quiet.

"Renesmee, I didn't know – I had no idea . . . How long have you felt this way?"

Nessie got off the bed and the springs squeaked; she paced over to the window and back again, bouquets of words sprouting from her. "I don't know. Weeks? Months? Years. What does it matter? He's shown me—well and truly—that he doesn't feel the same. And – and why would he? Look at him and look at me. Why would he be interested? I'm not like him – not a werewolf. I'm not even a vampire like you. An anomaly. That's what I am. And who'd want that?"

"Darling, you're not an anomaly. You're—"

"Special. Yeah, I know." She paced back to the window. "Special's not all it's cracked up to be." A shadow moved outside and she knew, like she always did. She leapt back from the glass and drew the curtains quickly. Without turning around, she said: "He's out there, isn't he?"

Bella hopped off the bed, and of course for her it made no sound. She approached her daughter slowly. "He's been there all night."

"Oh, God." She spun around abruptly. "He hasn't . . . heard what I said, has he?"

Bella shook her head. "He wouldn't listen."

What was he doing? He couldn't say he didn't want to be with her and then camp outside her window.

"What does he want?" Did she really want to know?

Bella frowned a bit. "To talk. But your father said no. You were too upset."

"Dad? Is that why he left—to talk to Jake?" She crept over to the curtain and drew it back a millimeter to peek into the darkness. "What did he say to him?"

"They're still talking."

Nessie spun around again. "Still? About what? What are they saying?"

"I've been in here with you."

"But you can hear them! Mom, please tell me."

Bella sighed and said: "About you, mostly. You may be fighting, but he doesn't like to see you upset." They were not _fighting_. If only it were that simple.

"Nessie, do you want to go out and talk to him yourself—"

"No, _nonononono_." She stood back from the window. "I think I just want to go back to bed. I can't – I can't deal with this right now."

"Okay, sweetheart, okay." Bella pulled back the blankets on her bed. "Want to stay here tonight?"

Normally this sort of suggestion would have been ludicrous, what with Nessie being such a grown up, but tonight she wanted nothing less than to sleep alone. "Thanks, Mom."

They climbed in together and Nessie laid her head on her mother's shoulder again and they were silent for a long while.

Renesmee just registered more tears as she drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

><p>Jacob was still sat outside, two hours later, when Bella came out of the cottage. He was just inside a canopy of trees, but sprang up when he saw her. "Bella," he said, and then drew up short. What on earth could he say?<p>

For a moment Bella was conflicted: he was her oldest friend and was clearly upset, but Nessie was her _daughter_. She knew where her allegiance lay.

Edward was standing to her left, twenty feet from Jacob. "I told him to leave," he said. "I offered to hang him by his tail." He subconsciously touched her arm as he made his way inside. "I'm going to check on my daughter." And he left the two of them alone.

Jacob stepped closer, into the porch light. He was wearing only a pair of torn shorts and a look of utter devastation. "Is she . . . okay?"

"_Okay_?" Her tone was vicious. "No. She is not _okay_."

He brought both of his hands to cover his face and groaned. "Oh, God. I never meant – I didn't want . . . I need to talk to her."

"Well, you can't." His face crumpled and she added, "She's asleep."

"Oh." Silence. "Bella, tonight she . . . I . . . we—"

"I know, Jake. She told me."

"She did?"

Bella nodded, exasperated. "Of course she did. What were you thinking?"

Jacob sat down on a log, like his legs were no longer sufficient support. "I wasn't."

"Clearly." She folded her arms across her chest.

"Bells," he said, and he so rarely used her old nickname that he caught her by surprise and softened her. "I know what this looks like, but I swear I'd never – it's not like that between us."

"Why didn't you tell her today? About the imprinting?"

"I was trying to. I never got to finish."

Bella was quiet, carefully considering her next sentence. "She's only six." Her voice was so light he might have missed it. "I know she looks sixteen. But she's not. She's six."

"I _know_. Believe me when I tell you, I know."

"And I don't want to patronize her and tell her she can't be in love, that's she's too young, but she's _six_, Jacob. _Six years old_." Although she had no need to, she sank into a seat beside her friend. He'd opened a floodgate. "She's just grown up so fast, and I know I should be grateful I got to have a child at all, but it's only been six years and already she's physically almost the same age as me when I had her. She's far too young to love you, Jacob, but how can I tell her not to?"

Jacob hopped up, a little panicked, leaving her alone on the log. "It's not that kind of love, Bella. We have years before she even—"

"What are you talking about? She _kissed_ you. Of course it's that kind of love."

He stared at her like she'd slapped him across the face. "That's not – no. No." He took a few steps back, shaking his head. "Why would you say that?"

"Because it's _true_. What did you think kissing means?" She stood up, too, and caught the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation." She shook her head.

"What?" he asked, still wired.

"_This!_ Dissecting the kisses between my oldest friend and my six year old daughter!"

"Please don't say it like that."

"How else might I say it? It's exactly how it sounds! You and my baby, who'd have thought it?"

They stared at each other, a few feet apart. It took Bella a few moments to cool down, and when she realised what she said she immediately backtracked.

"I'm sorry. I know you didn't choose this."

"No, you were right." He looked down at the ground. "It's terrible. I'm sorry."

"Jake," she sighed softly. "I don't think that. I just don't – I don't know what to do. You imprinted on her."

"That doesn't mean I ever have to lay a hand on her. Just that I'm there for her."

Bella rolled her eyes. "I know how these stories end, Jacob. And I'm okay with her having you for the rest of her life, I'm _glad_ she has you. I just – it's hard to watch her grow up knowing her life is predetermined. That she'll never have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

Bella sighed again. "We're going around in circles." Jacob nodded his agreement. "Just tell me: what are you going to do?"

"I – I don't know."

"Promise me something? Promise you won't leave? Like you did all those years ago with me."

"Even if I wanted to . . . I couldn't." His answer made it a little better. Bella was reminded again how Jacob was Renesmee's in a way he had never been hers.

"Then go home tonight. It won't be any better if she wakes up and you're right outside. She's hurt, Jake. Embarrassed. Give her some space."

Jacob stood back immediately and said, "Of course I will. If it's what she wants," and Bella told him, "It's what she needs."

Bella watched from her doorway as he left slowly through the forest, his head hung just as Nessie's had been.

Edward popped his head outside the door. "He left?" He sounded a little impressed.

She nodded. "He'll be back." She closed her eyes when her husband drew her close and pressed a kiss into her hair. "I want him to be happy, Edward. He deserves it."

He wrapped his arm around her waist. "Believe it or not, I agree with you. I know what it's like to face the possibility of a very long and lonely life. And I wouldn't wish that on anyone." His expression darkened. "Not even the werewolf who loves my daughter."

Bella smiled. "Are you going to kill him?"

"No. But only because it would hurt Nessie."

"Is she still asleep?"

Edward looked pensive, sad even. "Restless, but asleep."

And so they headed, arm in arm, back into their cottage together to their daughter.

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

><p>COMING UP . . .<p>

"Of course we're still friends. If you still want me." It was the best he could do and was in no way good enough for her.

Another tear. Her hands were shaking. "I will _always_ want you."

Jacob thought his knees would buckle. Heat rose up his neck. He hadn't even known he was cold. He'd been freezing and her words were the sun, thawing his icy body.

There was silence and suddenly the small space between them felt like a landslide. He had to touch her. So he could comfort her, he told himself, but he was lying. This need was entirely selfish. He took a small step, and she remained still, watching him with eyes clouded with tears and relief. He reached for her, needing contact but knowing she had to come at her own pace.

Slowly—agonizingly, unwaveringly slowly—she extended her hand for his. Their fingertips touched and a hundred thousand volts shot up Jacob's arm. It was the sweetest, purest pain.


	8. Heartache Most Wicked

**Chapter IV: Heartache Most Wicked**

.

.

.

.

.

Bella's body grew still. She no longer moved, no longer struggled. It was like the fight had left her eyes and Jacob couldn't stand it.

"Give her to me," a voice said behind him. Jacob knew it to be Blondie. He didn't look up as Edward handed away the monster who had murdered the girl he loved. Then the baby was gone and it was just the three of them. Jacob, Edward, and a broken Bella. Three people, two heartbeats, one pair of lungs recycling breath.

Bella wasn't breathing, Jacob realised, but he was too numb to do anything with the information.

Beside him, Edward pulled out a needle the size of his arm.

"What _is_ that?" Jacob whispered.

Edward plunged it straight into Bella's heart. "My venom." They both tensed and watched and waited for some sign of life to return to Bella's eyes. It didn't. Nothing happened. Jacob's heart was breaking.

"No." Edward was crackling, like his voice wasn't so much breaking as already broken. "It's supposed to be working." He shoved his hands on her chest and pumped out rough, wild, desperate compressions. "No. Bella, come on. Bella!"

Jacob couldn't stand it any longer. The girl he loved was long gone. Dead. Nothing of her remained. There were so many things going through his head, but it was also strangely empty. There were so many things he _wanted_ to tell Edward, her murderer. If not her murderer, than an accomplice—he knew what was happening, he didn't stop it, he didn't try hard enough, he didn't save the girl they both loved.

"I won't kill you," is what he did tell him. "It would be too easy. You deserve to live with this." _You live with her death; let it worry a hole in you like I know it will in me. You shouldn't escape the agony of living without her, when I'll have to carry it with me every single day_, is what he didn't tell him, because there wasn't enough of anything left in him to bother. Edward would know. He would hear.

"You're not dead. Come _on_, Bella! Come back to me, _please_."

Suddenly, Jacob needed to get outside. He needed to get out of the house. Away from Edward and his futile attempts. Away from Bella. The hot air was stifling, choking him. He stumbled backwards out of the room, down the stairs and out the door, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. The cool night breeze whistled past him and he took a deep breath that stuck in his throat.

The image of his best friend dying, dead, was burning his eyes. It wouldn't go away. It replayed over and over in his mind until Jacob fell to the ground.

He clutched a handful of grass between his fingers. A single tear ran down his cheek: It felt like it was burning his skin, leaving an everlasting scar. Jacob took another breath, but the air caught again in his throat. He tried and he tried but his lungs were too tight. They were seizing. Closing. Dying. And they wouldn't let him breathe. Another tear trickled down his cheek into the grass.

He was distraught, wounded, but he wasn't _empty_. He didn't understand. He felt like he had just lost everything, and yet he still felt full.

The _pull_ was still there.

Jacob sat up slowly. Seth and Leah were watching him from across the clearing. He waved them away.

Inside, Rosalie was murmuring, crooning. To _it_. The _monster_ who had taken his best friend, ripped her away from him. Hurt her. _Killed_ her. Jacob was on his feet. He took the stairs three at a time. The front door was left open. He could hear Edward upstairs, crying out, still trying to save what was beyond saving. The hall was dark, the only light coming from the fire. Jacob followed it.

His skin was burning.

The blonde vampire was sitting in front of the flames. Cuddling the killer, playing with it. A termer ran down Jacob's spine, so violent the floor beneath him vibrated infinitesimally. He was aching to phase, to _kill_. He crouched down to spring—to tear off the head of the monster—to avenge his best friend—

—And the murderer looked up—

—And her deep, brown eyes were boring punctures in him.

—And in that moment Jacob couldn't breathe. Again.

But it wasn't for sadness. Or loneliness or jealousy or any of the emotions he was accustomed to feeling. He couldn't breathe for the happiness that was surging inside him, creeping up his neck into his face and forcing his lips to smile.

But it was so much more than happiness. He felt goodness and rightness and _wholeness_. Like, for the first time, he was _full_. There was no empty hole brimming with unrequited love. No anguish for the loss of life. Just this strange more-than-happiness.

Jacob's skin was still on fire, but it wasn't the same heat as before. He wasn't burning.

He was glowing.

Jacob fell to his knees, not five feet from the vampire. Not five feet from the baby. He thinks that's when Rosalie realised he was there—had he heard a snarl?—but he doesn't remember. His mind was too full of this baby—his eyes too full of her form, his ears too full of her heartbeat—to ever have noticed the vampire who held her.

His breathing never returned.

He didn't care.

He wouldn't care if he never breathed again.

This moment was like nothing he'd ever known, and he would have given up every breath if only to keep it. To keep her.

.

..

.

Jacob jerked and wrenched violently out of his dreams. It was a wonderful dream, the day of Nessie's birth. One of the best he had. So why did he feel so awful? Why did his stomach twist with such ferocious, unrelenting pain?

And then it struck him. And he bolted for the bathroom, scarcely reaching the toilet before his stomach emptied its contents. The same dreadful heaviness from last night settled on his shoulders, pressing on him until he was forced to lie down. He leaned his cheek against the cool marble tiles and took a deep breath against the despair manifesting inside him.

Nessie's face appeared before him, her eyes hollow and drawn. He reached for her and she cringed away, stumbled backwards and ran. Ran. Not like their games of hunting, not a catch-me-if-you-can chase. She ran from him with speed like he'd never seen before, like she didn't want to be caught.

What had he done?

Jacob eventually got up and climbed in the shower. The water was as high as it could go but wasn't near hot enough. He wanted it to scald him, to burn away his shame. The sound of Nessie's cries as she reached the cottage struck him like a physical blow. He hadn't been trying to listen, but he was so attuned to her that he'd have heard it from miles away.

How had he kissed her? She was only six; young and naive and so unbearably trusting of him. It was his job to protect her, to keep her safe. Yet the first real pain she experienced in her short lifetime was entirely because of him.

He wretched again.

Delving deep into the realms of melancholy, he crawled back to his bedroom and stared out his window, watching the dawn break.

But he wasn't the man he had been in that dream. He didn't run away when things got harder, hide in his house under the shadow of darkness. He had changed a lot since then. He would go to her again today. Beg for her forgiveness. Because he was selfish and couldn't bear the thought of leaving. Because he owed it to her. Because that was who he was now: someone with responsibilities and people who relied on him. Even if he let them down sometimes.

On pins and needles Jacob waited for it to reach noon. Needing to see her face, to be in her presence for but a moment, he headed to the Cullens' house.

Jacob reached the long driveway and was immediately on his guard, ears peeled. He expected an ambush, guerrilla warfare from every side. He at least expected Edward. But no one appeared. At the bottom of the stairs he waited, knowing they would have heard his approach.

He waited and waited and was about to turn away when the front door opened. And Jacob's body unravelled when Renesmee stepped outside and shut it tightly behind her. Of all the people he expected to greet him, Nessie was last on the list. She descended the stairs, light as a fairy, and came to stop five steps before him.

She had never looked so far away.

Her eyes were red and welled, and he ached all over to see it. She crossed her arms. Uncrossed them. Said, "Hi."

Jacob, frozen to the spot, replied, rather stupidly, "Hi."

Her eyes flickered down to her feet, hesitated a moment, and flashed back to him. "Jacob," she said, and his heart wept to hear his name on her lips. "I . . . I didn't think you'd come."

He wanted to step closer, to touch her, but he didn't allow himself. "Of course I did – I'll always come. As long as you'll let me."

Her eyes watered. "I didn't think you'd want to." Something was stabbing at his insides, tearing him apart organ by organ. "I'm – I'm so sorry . . . I should never have – I won't ever . . ." She tumbled over her words and Jacob felt his mouth hang open in astonishment.

"No, Nessie, no." He had to restrain himself from holding her. He needed to make it right first, and touching her would cloud his judgment. There could be no more lapses in judgement. "_I'm_ the one who's sorry. I never meant for that –"

"– You?" she cut over him. "It was all my fault – ki-kissing you like that. I don' know what came over me –"

"– It wasn't you! It was me, Nessie. I was such an idiot –"

"– And I just _ran_ – I'm so sorry I ran. I should have stayed and talked to you –"

"– I deserved it – you shouldn't even be talking to me now –"

" – And I just couldn't face you last night – I thought you'd never want to talk to me – not after what I've done . . ."

He shook his head madly. "You haven't done anything." She waved him off, apologising again, and he said more forcefully, "You haven't done _anything. _Nessie, it was all me and I've never been so sorry for anything in my life, I swear."

A tear ran down her cheek, but she finally looked a bit lighter. "So you'll still . . . be my friend?" Her voice was so unsure he swore blind his heart broke. It ruptured, cracked down the middle, dislodged from his chest. How could she even think . . .

"Of course – you're – you're my best friend. I couldn't function without you . . ." He wished not for the first time for a better way with words. He wished for Edward's articulation, for his ability to voice his thoughts so well. Jacob could never do justice to the immeasurable devotion he felt to this girl before him, to the sorrow he felt at her pain. He could never truly explain how wholly he belonged to her, wanted her, needed her. How he could never live without her.

He was a man of little words and had never detested it so much as right now, when the girl he loved needed words so vitally.

"Of course we're still friends. If you still want me." It was the best he could do and was in no way good enough for her.

Another tear. Her hands were shaking. "I will _always_ want you."

Jacob thought his knees would buckle. Heat rose up his neck. He hadn't even known he was cold. He'd been freezing and her words were the sun, thawing the ice.

There was silence and suddenly the small space between them felt like a landslide. He had to touch her. So he could comfort her, he told himself, but he was lying. This need was entirely selfish. He took a small step, and she remained still, watching him with eyes clouded with tears and relief. He reached for her, needing contact but knowing she had to come at her own pace.

Slowly—agonizingly, unwaveringly slowly—she extended her hand for his. Their fingertips touched and a hundred thousand volts shot up Jacob's arm. It was the sweetest, purest pain.

Renesmee, standing with her fingers outstretched, whispered, "So am I forgiven?"

Jacob smiled, the glorious smile he could only manage when Nessie was near, and asked, "Am I?"

She dropped his hand and Jacob barely had enough time to start breaking again before she threw herself into his arms. It was heavenly, having her there. Like he lived normally with one lung, but when he held her he found the second and could _breathe_. He bent low and she clung to him, her face pressed against his neck.

Her arms were still shaking and he tightened his grip, trying to steady her. "I was so worried," she confessed, her breath dancing across his skin, raising goosebumps. "I've never fought with you, Jake, and I was _sick_ with worry last night." He stood up, his arms around her waist, taking her a foot off the ground. "Let's never fight again."

"Never," he agreed. "Never, Nessie."


	9. The Snow that Melts the Soonest

**Chapter X: The Snow that Melts the Soonest**

"_I love you because no two snowflakes are alike, and it is possible, if you stand tippy-toe, to walk between the raindrops."  
><em>—Nikki Giovanni

.

Renesmee sprinted across the sand and into the forest. She ducked behind a tree, but it was no use: she could feel her pursuer hot on her heels. She glanced around frantically, but there was nowhere for her to hide.

She took up a run again, cursing her human side that hindered her getaway. Ice and snow crunched beneath her boots, and specs of white clouded her vision.

Just ahead, she spotted the path to the cliffs and made a beeline for them.

Behind her, she heard a laugh. Her attacker thought poorly of her choice.

And as soon as the path ended she agreed. Now there was no where left to run. She circled, looking for shelter, but no matter which way she turned, some side of her was still exposed.

Adrenaline pumped through her. And excitement. And a sliver of fear.

Nessie was trapped. But she would not be caught. Or, at least, she would not go down without a fight.

An idea sparked in her, and she looked over her shoulder at the cliff edge. On a rush of bravery, or maybe insanity, she made to jump—

—And felt the weight of full grown man knock her to the ground.

She squirmed beneath him, trying to break free, but he may as well have been made of stone for all the good she did. She managed to turn over, so she was lying on her back instead of her stomach.

Renesmee smiled at her assailant. "You fight dirty."

He frowned back at her. "Were you really about to jump?"

"Of course not."

He didn't seem to believe her, but a sudden thought made him grin. He leaned his face down so he was a mere inch above hers. "I do believe I won." His breath was scorching on her frozen cheeks. "Do you concede defeat?"

She shook her head, snowflakes gathering in her hair. She could feel every inch of his sweltering body over hers.

"Nessie?" His eyes crinkled in the corners, just a little smug.

She tried again to pull free, but her legs were trapped beneath his. The thought made her head dizzy. "No," she said.

His smile now was positively boastful. He leaned impossibly closer. "No I didn't win, or no you don't concede?"

Renesmee put her hand on his shoulder and pushed with all her might. Surprisingly, he turned right over and she forced him onto his back. (He may have let her. Just a little.) She threw her leg over him, straddling his waist and leaned down close, as he had been just moments before.

"No to both," she whispered. Her breath spelled her words in the air.

He reached out for her, and she caught his hand in hers and pinned it above his head. She did the same with the second. (Okay, she was not that strong. He was definitely letting her.)

"Jacob." She sighed his name into the air and let it hang there like a snowflake. Her nose was practically touching his as she whispered, "I win."

A snowball hit Renesmee in the head, slid down her neck and landed on Jacob. They broke apart instantly, like something had shocked them.

"Oh," Seth said, standing at the top of the path, smiling devilishly. "I interrupted something."

Jacob, now twelve feet away from her and rolling his shoulders like they cramped, smiled uncomfortably. "No – we uh –"

Nessie dusted the snow off her coat. "He's embarrassed because a six year-old girl just annihilated him."

He smiled in earnest now, hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. Silent Jacob. She's been seeing a lot of him lately.

Ever since the night of the bonfire, something had changed between them. Ever since she kissed him. Like she was dying of thirst at sea and Jacob's lips were salt water—she knew they would only worsen her desire and yet the temptation was too enticing to resist.

Jacob had changed, too, however he tried to deny it. He looked at her differently. She could feel his eyes trailing her wherever she walked. And then there were occasions like _that_. One moment she's messing with old friendly Jacob, and the next she's straddling his hips, pinning his hands behind his head, her mouth an inch from his . . .

But never kissing. Not since then. Though they've come close. So very, very close.

It's always wonderful and Jacob always seems a very willing participant, but as soon as it's over or they're interrupted, he jerks away from her, like he's just waking up and gaining control of his senses. He puts ten feet between them, an icy barrier, a silent Jacob.

He tries to keep his distance, but maybe he's thirsty too because lately they can hardly go a day without some form of contact.

Renesmee looked up at Seth, who grinned as he looked between her and Jake. Like he was in on the most intimate of secrets.

"Should I, uh, leave you to it?" he offered.

Nessie immediately reached down to grab a handful of snow, but before she had time to even stand straight, Seth had sent a snowball into her face.

"Werewolf speed and precision," she scoffed, melted ice dripping from her temple. "It's almost like cheating."

His eyes narrowed mischievously. "Cheating, am I?" He started to bend very slowly, hands reaching down, eyes locked with hers. A second snowball flew past her and collided with Seth. He spluttered. "Look who's cheating now – an alpha bodyguard!"

Nessie laughed and the sound carried on the wind, amplified by the hundred year old trees.

"Over here!" a voice called. She had alerted the others to their whereabouts. This was snowfall warfare—or, at least, it had been until minutes ago.

Suddenly, Jacob was behind her again. He urged her towards the forest. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'll cover you," he promised.

It was all the assurance she needed to delve back into the trees. She didn't slow as she passed a group of the others: Embry, Quil, Claire, Seth's girlfriend Lisa, a few teenagers from the reservation. They were locked in what appeared to be a snowball battle to the death.

She continued in the direction of a little clearing she remembered. One she knew Jacob also remembered. He wasn't following her yet, so she slowed a little, ears peeled for pursuit. She felt a tiny bit reprehensible, turning an innocent snow day into another chance to experiment with the new emotions she had, but she felt invigorated, too.

And then Renesmee sensed it. That neck-tingling sensation of being followed, being watched, being hunted. Pure exhilaration.

She laughed and made the last sprint into the clearing. It was utterly beautiful, this small break of trees, so deep in the forest it was undisturbed. A blanket of untouched white, so pure she hardly wanted to step on it.

"Wow," she breathed. "Jake, come look." Jacob didn't respond. "Oh, I see." She paced around the outside of the clearing, eyes darting around her. "Sore loser, are we?" Still no response. "Jacob?"

Something was off.

She froze.

Cleared her throat.

Called again.

"Jacob?"

Nothing.

No sound but for the wind and the animals and the almost imperceptible presence of someone else.

Trying to think clearly, Renesmee started back in the direction of the group. But she was distracted now. Disorientated. And she wasn't all that certain she was going the right way.

Because, she was right, someone was following her.

But it wasn't Jacob.

.

..

.

"I'll cover you," Jacob promised, and he watched her sprint back into the forest after the others. She was covered in snow. A little wedge of guilt settled in his chest, because there was snow on her coat _for a reason_.

Seth was grinning madly. "You covered her, all right."

Jacob glared at him. "You're not funny."

"You're 'keeping some distance' really well."

Keeping some distance. Exactly what Jacob had sworn to do after the bonfire. He originally thought he would snap back to reality after the kiss. That he could put it out of his mind and concentrate on being what Nessie needed. That, with it out of his system, it would be easier.

He'd been wrong.

Unbearably, vehemently wrong.

Because now, God help him, he knew what she tasted like. And little Nessie Cullen tasted like heaven. Heaven and sugar and something uniquely her own.

Jacob looked back at his friend. "I'm trying."

Seth was endlessly understanding. "Not very hard." When Jacob opened his mouth to protest, Seth cut over him. "I found you rolling around in the snow. On top of her."

Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he subconsciously picked up from the vampires he consorted with. "But a month ago that would have been fine. A month ago, it would have been weird if I _didn't_." He shook his head, tried to perk up. "I'm going to go find her."

Seth exercised some brotherly caution. "Is that such a good idea?"

"If for nothing else, she still thinks she _won_ . . ."

A buzzing sound interrupted him. Jacob followed the noise and found Nessie's phone in the snow. It must have fallen out of her pocket when he . . . _tackled_ her.

_Daddy_, the screen read. It cut off, but before Jacob could pocket it, the phone was ringing again.

Edward must be in flying spirits today.

He answered.

"Renesmee? Renesmee, are you there?"

"It's me," Jacob said.

"Jacob." There was relief in his voice.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Edward was entirely uncertain when he replied, "Alice had a vision."

.

..

.

_Find the trail. Find the trail. Find the trail_, Renesmee chanted in her head as she manoeuvred through the forest. _Or find Jacob. Or Seth. Or even Lisa. Just focus on finding. You're okay. Find the trail._

For someone who grew up in a house full of vampires and spent her weekend with werewolves, Nessie had yet to come into contact with any form of confrontation. She therefore, ironically, was the least equipped half-vampire in the entire world.

But _what_ was this vampire doing? Why was it following Nessie like that, like it was observing? Why wait? She would never be more alone than right now; in fact, every moment that passed made her _less_ alone. The longer she was missing, the more people would come looking for her.

And suddenly the vampire was there. Just ahead of her, as though waiting for her approach. Silhouetted by the forest's canopy, Renesmee couldn't distinguish it from its surroundings.

Except the eyes. The blood red irises stared at her relentlessly.

Nessie was used to black or golden vampire eyes. She hadn't seen red since . . .

"Renesmee?" the vampire asked. Female. Accented. Southern American. Brazilian, possibly.

Neither made an attempt to move.

"Oh, my. I can hardly recognise you."

Familiar. A murky memory formed in Nessie's mind, one of blurred colours and pictures.

She took a breath. "Who . . . ?"

"My dear girl. You do not remember?" The vampire took a step towards her, into a tinkle of sunshine.

A million memories flooded Renesmee's mind at once. There was more snow, more blood red eyes. Unfamiliar, foreign faces. A tent. And pictures, hundreds of images that weren't her own, loaned to her in a quiet corner. Nessie, still so small, sitting on her lap with a hand on her cheek, exchanging dreams.

"Zafrina?" She hadn't said that name in quite a while.

The vampire looked delighted. "I knew you could not forget me." Her eyes scrunched together. "Renesmee, are you alright?"

Nessie released her body's entire contents of oxygen. With a hand on her heart she conceded, "Yes. I just . . . you frightened me."

Zafrina flashed to her side and embraced her. "Oh, my sky, I am sorry." She held the younger girl at arm's length. "You have grown so old. And every bit as beautiful as I had envisioned."

Renesmee smiled, swathed in a sense of nostalgia she had never experienced before.

Suddenly, through the distance, she could hear a set of familiar footsteps. Jacob slowed when they came into view, approached them at a walk. He smiled in the cautious way of someone advancing on a wild animal—slow, waiting for them to be spooked and run. Nessie wasn't sure who this was in aid of.

"Jacob," Nessie said. "Look who came to visit." She turned to the vampire. "Do you remember Jake?"

"The wolf. Of course." She nodded her head in greeting. "It is good to see you again, friend." Something dawned on Zafrina and she was suddenly alert. "I must speak with Carlisle."

Jacob nodded and extended his hand. "Come on, Nessie. We'll show her up to the house."

Zafrina fell into step beside them, slightly farther apart, a slightly more erratic pace. "He is in?"

He glanced at the vampire from the corner of his eye. "He's waiting for you."

.

..

.

Bella was practically wearing holes in the floorboards with her pacing. Every few seconds, she'd pause to glance out the window and then return to worrying the wood.

Renesmee had been gone all day, and normally Bella didn't mind – there were no safer hands than Jacob's after all. But something was wrong, severely wrong, to force Zafrina to travel to Washington for help. And Bella would feel much more at ease to have her daughter at her side.

Why wasn't she home yet?

"Bella." Edward's breath grazed her neck as he whispered. "She'll be here any second."

She turned to her husband. "Can you hear her?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist and she leaned into him. "No, not yet." He kissed the top of her head. "But I'm sure it's nothing."

"So, what, Zafrina's popping in for a visit? For some tea?"

Edward smiled into her hair. "I don't think we would be very good hosts."

She considered that. "No. I suppose not." What could she offer a wild vampire? The Olympic Peninsula's finest grizzly?

Beside her, Edward stiffened.

"What? Are they near?" And then she heard it: three pairs, six feet. Approaching the house. "What's she thinking?"

Edward's brows knot together. "I'm not sure. Someone's ill? A young woman."

"Is it—"

"I don't know."

The entire family gathered in the foyer as Renesmee led Jacob and Zafrina into the house. The Amazonian vampire was just as Bella remembered her: eccentric, jerky, dressed in wild animal skins. In one word: feral.

Carlisle dashed to greet her, keeping an acceptable distance. Bella hardly heard a word of pleasantries exchanged, but watched her daughter stand not a foot from the red-eyed vampire. She remembered that Christmas, seven years ago, when Nessie had been just a baby and the two of them inseparable.

Nessie caught her staring and widened her eyes in question; Bella smiled at her.

"Carlisle, I do not come for pleasure." Zafrina was straight to the point. "I am in need of your help."

Carlisle flashed his eyes to Edward. "Then you must only say the word. We are all still deeply grateful for your support against the Volturi."

Zafrina nodded. "I had hoped so." A pause. "I come on behalf of Serena."

Carlisle didn't miss a beat. "Joham's eldest daughter. Go on."

Zafrina squared her shoulders. "She had been ailing many months before she came to me. And now . . . now she is very ill indeed."

Bella's head was reeling. Joham? Nahuel's father. Serena must be one of his hybrid daughters. And a hybrid _sick_? She didn't like where this was going. Motherly instinct, she told herself.

Edward stiffened to stone beside her. She turned to him, and he was staring with eyes of granite between Zafrina and Renesmee.

Zafrina went on, "I was a worthy healer in my time, there was no ail I could not remedy. But I have known no sickness to affect vampires, even a half-breed."

Bella could tell the exact moment Renesmee understood. She watched her suck in a breath and hold it, lean into Jacob's side like it was a life-preserver.

No one dared speak a word.

"Serena turned two-hundred last year. This is when she started to weaken."

To her surprise, Zafrina turned to meet Bella straight in the eye as she finished. "After many, many medicines and extensive researching . . . I have failed to find a cure." There was honest sympathy in her eyes as she delivered the death sentence. "I fear it is her human side, finally catching up on her."

If Bella could have, she would have crumpled to the ground.

Her baby was not immortal.

.

.

.

To be continued


End file.
